I, Coward

Originally posted to El Cantar de la Lluvia on Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Today, as I was on my way to see about the rack for my new XR250R, quite a few blocks before Con Con and Alamenda, coming up to a traffic light, I saw, on my left, through the rear car window, a man hitting something in the back seat, from his position in the driver's seat.

I stopped beside his car, and saw four little legs, two kids in the back seat, terrified, and then: I'm gonna beat you some more if you don't shut up, ok?.

I did the only thing that came to mind, the only way to express my anger, and it was to rev the XR250R all the way to the redline, as I looked at him through the car window. The noise was louder than I expected, as my XR has a completely un-restricted exhaust pipe, and he stopped, and looked at me: him, with his goatee; him, with his black plastic sunglasses; him, the nicely dressed chanta; him, a complete nobody. He looked at me. His face was expressionless, but he was looking at me. We stayed like that for a few seconds, perhaps three. He set off with a squeal of rubber, and turned left. I didn't see him again.

In retrospective, the license plate, a gloved fist slammed on the car roof, a boot to the door, the side mirror. Some harsh words, at very least. Above all, the license plate, for the denuncia. But, well, we are al generals after the war, and all I did was make some noise. In other words, nothing at all.