Yesterday I took a walk and ended up a few miles away when the clouds just opened up—I hadn’t realized that it was supposed to rain, and boy, did it rain. Since I didn’t have my umbrella (but did have my computer), I ducked into a restaurant and had some dinner before walking the rest of the way home.
I realize that so far, you’re no doubt riveted by the adventure and saying, “But what comes next, ICN? What comes next?” Well, I’ll tell you. About a mile from home there was a small lake in the road right next to the sidewalk I was on. Cars weren’t even going that fast into it, but they still kicked up a pretty big amount of water. No problem, I could see that there was a clearing in the traffic, so I waited it out. The drivers, seeing me, slowed down and swerved as much as possible to avoid even risking splashing me, which I appreciated. They passed, I ran past the lake, and all was good.
About a block later there was a much smaller (but not insubstantial) puddle, but I figured it was nothing to worry about. It barely made it past the curb and into the street.
As I was walking by, the guy in a truck in the lane swerved over (he had been in the middle/left side of the lane, and there was no-one in the lane next to him, so there was no reason to do this) and hit the puddle just as I was walking by, then sped off.
I’ll give him credit for having good aim—it was a direct hit, sort of like the wall of water that hits people standing next to a log flume.
My first impulse was to think, “I hope that motherfucker doesn’t see the pond he’s about to drive into and sucks a couple of gallons of water into his engine.” Then I thought, no, he is almost certainly an asshole (I would put the odds of his nailing me being an accident at about 2%), but is it a proportional response to say that I hope his car gets seriously messed up? As viscerally pleasing as it might have been, I just couldn’t justify it. It’s like getting bad service at a restaurant and hoping the server gets fired. Yeah, it sucked that I had to wait for my Coke while she stood there talking to the other servers, but does that merit saying, “Boy, I sure hope she loses her health insurance?” It’s just a Coke, for God’s sake.
I settled on hoping that he didn’t see the puddle, took in enough water to almost damage the engine (not bloody likely, as the penis-extender pickup he was driving was too high off the ground) and put the fear of God into him a bit, maybe make him think that he was being punished somehow, or, at the very least, realize that if he hadn’t gone out of his way to be a dick, he wouldn’t have risked hurting his engine.