So I’m driving the boys to Grandma’s after school today.  We’re driving down Uintah, and come to the tricky intersection in front of the D11 Admin Bldg, the car in front of me is going right, and the car in front of the car next to me is going left.  We both do that curve out to go around the cars, and we get close.  Dude shoots me the WTF? look, and I just shrug at him.  Whatever.

So we are getting to the intersection of Palmer Park and Uintah, I start to get in the left lane, and he cuts me off and jumps in front of me.  Nice. (that’s dripping with sarcasm for those who don’t know me well).

We get on Palmer Park and he rides in the middle of the two lanes!     He finally moves to the left lane, and I cautiously try to pass him on the right, wondering if he is going to try and cut me off again.

I speed up to put distance between us and pass several cars.  He’s frakking following me!  Great.  Some psycho road rage dude is following me with the kids in the car.  Fan-frakkin-tastic.

So, he rides my ass all the way down Palmer Park.  I turn off a block early, and he doesn’t follow. Okay.  I come around the block and get to Doug’s parents house and he is WAITING across the street. 

Thankfully, Doug’s dad was in the driveway, so I just worked to get the kids out of the car as soon as possible.  He starts yelling out of his car window, calling *me* a psycho driver.  Hello???  I didn’t follow *him* for 4 miles. 

I admit, I let my anger get the best of me, and called him pathetic, and expressed how incredulous I was and what a loser he must be that he followed me for FOUR miles.  To yell at me about *my* driving?!  He starts addressing Doug’s parents.  Poor grandma & grandpa.  They yell at him to get lost.  He continues to yell out his window at me.  I tell him to go away or I will call the police.  I say some choice words like “Road rage!  Stalker!”  He keeps stopping the car like he’s going to get out, but he doesn’t.  He just yells out his frakkin window.

I am VERY unhappy that he knows where Doug’s parents live.  I want to file a police report or something. I have his license plate number.  He was driving a white Subaru wagon with his dog(s) in the back.  Can I do that?  But then he’ll know it was me, and he probably memorized my license plate number.

I shouldn’t have yelled at him, but I was already have an emotional day with Greg’s final hours, and worrying about two of my friends, both of whom are dealing with some very emotional issues.

   I’m so irritated, I could SCREAM.