Here’s the story:
I was coming home from Lowes in my little pick-up truck, an ’02 Nissan Frontier with the four-cylinder engine. Not a hot rod by any stretch of the imagination – especially with the bed loaded down with bags of cement and cinder blocks. The road – US 221 – is a lightly traveled highway that bisects rural Floyd County, Va. where I live. The speed limit is 55 – with most traffic moving about 5-10 MPH faster than that.
Just to set the stage.
I’m trundling home in the truck, not even “speeding” – due to the load. I’m doing about 55, maybe getting up to 60 on the downhills. Up ahead, there’s a white minivan obviously traveling well below the speed limit as I am rapidly overtaking. But – surprise – it’s not the minivan that’s clogging the road. It’s a late-model Corvette convertible.
With Cloverina behind the wheel.
The minivan is stuck behind the ‘Vette – and I’m stuck behind the van. Cloverina is holding unsteady, undulating her speed between 40 and 47 MPH, back-and-forthing (as Clovers and Cloverinas tend to do) for no discernible reason. This is random slowing down and speeding up is almost as aggravating as being stuck behind a slowpoke who (cue Kyle Reese voice from the first Terminator movie) absolutely will not pull off – ever - to let the cars behind get by.
Just ahead, a passing zone – a nice long straightwaway. When we get there, I pass both the minivan (which showed no inclination to pass the ‘Vette) and the Cloverina in her Corvette. My speed rose – briefly – to about 70 and then I eased back into the right lane and continued on my way. A glance in the reaview showed the Corvette receding quickly – with the minivan driver now riding the Corvette’s ass.
I rounded a corner – and the van and ‘Vette disappeared from my line of sight. I continued on toward home, about three miles down the road.
There is another long straight section with a marked/legal passing zone just before you get to the turn off for our road. I glance in the rearview – and notice Cloverina’s Corvette is closing on me at an extremely rapid pace. She had to be doing at least 80-something – statutory “reckless” driving in my state. In moments she was riding my ass. So close the Corvette’s always-on parking lights (Daytime Running Lamps) dropped from my view.
Mind, we’re on a straight stretch. A marked – legal – passing zone. No oncoming traffic. She’s got a Corvette with 400-plus hp under the hood. But instead of passing me, Cloverina is sucking on my tailpipe.
I brake-checked the dumb bitch.
Good thing – for her – that Corvettes have good brakes.
She just barely avoided a cold bumper sammitch and (hopefully) spilled hot coffee all over her coochie. Sterilizing this creature would have been a service to humanity.
My truck, though small, has an exposed metal bumper connected to a heavy steel frame. It would have done quite the tune-up on the plastic/fiberglass front clip of her no-doubt sugar daddy-bought Corvette.
What is wrong with these people? What, as R. L. Ermey might put it, is their major malfunction?
I conjecture Cloverina was on her sail fawn when I (and the hapless van) encountered her. Being a Cloverina, her call took precedence over paying attention to her driving – much less giving a damn about the other drivers she was holding up.
But she – like many Clovers I’ve dealt with – cares very much when one of those drivers dares to pass.
This, to a Clover, is an affront to what they consider to be their turf . . . so to speak. It fires the lizard brain. The only brain Clovers posses.
Must teach lesson!
So, Clover (or Cloverina) speeds up to thwart the pass. Or – if the passer is successful – Clover will often do as my Cloverina did and rocket up to Ludicrous Speed in order to catch up to the passer and will then ride his bumper like a lamprey on a shark.
They’ll drive as recklessly in reality as they accuse us of doing in their fantasies.
I’ve dealt with Clovers who rocked up to 30 (or more) over the posted limit, just to try to prevent me from passing them. That’s apparently not “dangerous speeding” in Clover’s world. I’ve even had a Clover use his car to physically prevent me from passing, by moving his car in front of mine – in the other lane (the passing lane).
That’s not “dangerous,” either.
All this woman had to do – if she thought I was driving too slowly – was go around me. She had a Corvette. The road was straight, the way was clear for literally half a mile. But, no. She tailgates me instead.
Aggressively. Clovers love aggression; it is their marinade.
This manifests as just described. The defining characteristic of a Clover is that he or she will not move over, ever. They believe they own the road.
It’s the thread that runs through everything involving Clovers – on the road and off. They can’t abide the ebb and flow of peaceful, cooperative human interaction. It’s their way uber alles.
And boy, do they get angry when anyone dares to do otherwise.
Throw it in the Woods?
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