The following is a true story:
A couple of weekends ago, while driving back home with Lady Laura and the tots, I had a couple of near misses.
It was a Sunday, so naturally, I had my wits about me.
If you know anything about the roads, you know that Sunday drivers are very real and, in some cases, extremely dangerous.
And lo and behold, even with this level of vigilance, I encountered not one…
BUT TWO OF THEM.
The first incident happened as I was negotiating a roundabout. I was in the outer lane going straight ahead when a woman decided to pull out of her junction at the last second, forcing me to slam on the brakes and send Liam's toys flying.
Of course, I punched the horn, but instead of sorrow radiating from her hawkish features, she looked pissed…
At me.
The absolute cheek of it!
Anyway, after muttering a few expletives (as Liam's at that stage where he listens to EVERYTHING), I shook it off.
But only five minutes later, that changed.
A guy driving a small, lipstick-red Fiat 500 was waiting to pull into this pub's parking lot, and despite me driving a car twice the size of his, he didn't register my presence either.
Instead of waiting for me to pass, he pulled into my lane, forcing me to swerve around him to avoid a head-on collision.
I immediately pulled down my window and told him (read: yelled at him) to watch where he was going.
In fairness, he had held his hands up to acknowledge his mistake, but whether it was a dented ego or he didn't appreciate my tone, he muttered "arsehole" as I drove off.
It was at that moment I saw red.
I slammed on the brakes again, much to everyone's delight, shifted into reverse, and sped onto the car park, ready to take this coward to Disneyland.
But instead of stopping and facing the music he orchestrated, he simply…
SPED OFF.
All I saw was his souped-up go-kart flit between stationary cars while he ripped across the car park to rejoin the main road.
In hindsight, it's quite comical, but in the moment, all I thought was:
"You risk my life and the lives of my family, and then have the audacity to call ME an arsehole?!"
So I gave chase.
For a mile or more, I rode up his tail, hooted my horn, and yelled for him to pull over, but our friend didn't want any of my ire.
It was only when Laura demanded I think about the boys that the red mist of rage suddenly dissipated and the world around me slowed to a crawl.
I remember glancing up at the rearview mirror into her eyes.
Then I looked at Liam.
Then at Nathan, who cooed in his child seat, blissfully unaware of what was going on.
It was at this moment that it finally hit me…
THIS WOULD MAKE A FANTASTIC EMAIL.
Jokes aside, this really wasn't my finest moment.
While I did eventually let the guy slip off down a side street (where he's probably still hiding now), if I could turn back time, I wouldn't have responded in the way that I did.
I am a father, for Christ's sake.
Had he stopped and wanted to play fisticuffs, one punch is all it takes for both of our lives (and that of our family's) to change forever.
And given that road rage claims at least two lives every week here in the UK alone, that was utterly reckless on my behalf.
The lesson here for me (and perhaps you) is to just take a breath, utter a curse, and let it go.
The alternatives simply aren't worth it.
Perhaps, for my sins, I will feature in a dashcam YouTube compilation in the near future, but until that fateful day, I've got something far more engrossing and, dare I say, entertaining than watching me chase hapless Sunday drivers around an English borough.
That thing is none other than Among Wolves — the hotly anticipated sequel to The Divided Region.
To get your copy in ebook, audiobook, or paperback, go here:
https://djjwatsonstore.com/products/among-wolves
DJJW