Do Not Fuck with Me on the Road. I Will Chase You.

by Loolwa Khazzoom • November 11, 2013 • Keeping It Raw

So I just had the umpteenth incident where a driver went way over the line of decency, thinking he was saving a second or two by acting like an entitled prick, only to discover out that no, he was not saving any damn time at all.

Yes he could have been a she, but being that some dipshit in a 1970s Cadillac had just tailgated me down the main drag, leading me to slow to half the speed until he switched lanes; being that I allowed for the possibility that “he” in that case could have been a “she;” and being that a huge man wearing a sports jersey and baseball cap lumbered out of the car, only to be as in line with the stereotype as humanly possible, we are calling the new idiot driver a “he,” for the sake of ease.

After effectively switching places with the Cadillac and driving at a distance behind, as it tailgated the next poor victim in front, only for all three cars to arrive at the same intersection within two seconds of each other, I turned right to head into my neighborhood. As I slowed down and put on my signal to turn left, Asswipe zoomed up the street, nearly clipped my tailgate, and passed me on the right. In a one-lane street.


I turned off the blinky signal, gunned the engine and, shall we say, changed course. Asswipe made a right turn into the spaghetti of my neighborhood, off his intended course, with me on his tail. I reached for my purse and called the cops. “Why are you following him?” the officer asked. Um, because you’re not? (I have actually said that to police before. They are not fond of this reply, so I keep it to myself these days.)

I won’t be reckless, mind you, so after giving Asswipe a run for his money through the land of pasta, I let him go flying down the main drag. Sayonara you piece of shit.

The last chase I had was a few months ago, on behalf of someone else. I was driving down a busy street, minding my business, when a car sped up and nearly gunned down two dark-skinned men, seemingly of Southeast Asian ethnicity, who were crossing the street. I pulled over to the right hand lane and slowed down, saying to the men, “That was not ok, what that car just did to you.” You know, to let them know there was a witness to the madness, and to comfort them with a little touch of human care.

I remember one time in Jerusalem, when I was forced off the road by a crazy driver. I was on my bike. I careened onto the shoulder, slammed on my brakes, and threw my feet out, to stabilize myself. I stood there, shaking. Another driver slowed his car to a stop and waved me in front of him. I gestured for him to go before me. “No,” he said, “what that driver did was unacceptable. Please go in front of me.” Ten cars were honking behind this guy, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He was using his power as a driver to right a wrong. It was a beautiful gesture, and I waved at him as I got back on the road. He was like my vehicular body guard as I continued up the street. I have never forgotten it. I know first-hand how much these little interventions can mean to people.

Back to California: The men looked pleasantly surprised that I stopped and said something. They had expressions of distress when the car nearly hit them, and their expressions softened after I spoke to them.

I wasn’t done though. I wanted to confront the driver. So I drove after the car in question, down several blocks and through a turn or two, until I reached it at an intersection. At the red light, I pulled up side-to-side with the driver – a young, light-skinned woman with straight blonde hair. It crossed my mind that perhaps the incident was racially-motivated. Regardless, I motioned to the woman to roll down her window. I gave my friendly face, and she obliged. “Why did you speed up when those men were crossing [insert name] street?” I asked her. “You could have hit them.”

The woman gave a little smirk, then said, in a patronizing tone, “I’m doing just fine. You mind your own business.” I looked her dead in the eye and paused for one second. Then I hit reverse, pointed my nose at her car, got her license, and called the cops. It was priceless to see her smug little face change expression in the mirror.

I have a sixth sense for anticipating people’s moves, so when she abruptly turned right, I was on her tail. We drove cat-and-mouse style, all over the east side of town, for about 10 minutes, down the main drags and through the spaghetti streets. The first five minutes was to keep the cops informed of her whereabouts. The last five minutes was just for funsies.


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About Loolwa

Loolwa KhazzoomLoolwa Khazzoom has worked with leading media outlets, including The New York Times, CNN, Rolling Stone, and ABC News. In addition, she has published two books and has lectured at prestigious venues including Barnard Center for Research on Women, the Simon Wiesenthal Center, and Harvard University. Loolwa is passionate about health, music, dance, multiculturalism, and Judaism.

Holistic Media, Marketing, PR

Loolwa Khazzoom is a a public relations manager specializing in holistic media, holistic marketing, holistic public relations, and holistic promotions. Her services include branding and messaging development, image and communications management, website content development and optimization, social media management, traditional media campaign management, book development, and in-house writing and editing.

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