When I was in my twenties, my father owned a Porsche 911, and I was on his insurance to allow me to drive it occasionally. I was also an active cyclist, and for journeys of less than ten miles, I preferred to cycle.

While heading down to the local store on my bike, a man driving a convertible BMW pulled out of a side street right in front of me, forcing me to brake hard. I remonstrated with him, to which he spat out the following nugget.

Man: “Oh, go away. I bet you can’t even drive, let alone own a car, and certainly not one as nice as mine. On a bike! I bet you don’t even have a job. Just [redacted] off.”

It just so happened that I had my father’s 911 for the weekend, as I had to drive down to London later that day. When returning from the store, I saw the same man parked outside a property, pontificating, bragging about his BMW.

I went home, got changed, and headed out in the 911. He was still there. I pulled up alongside him.

Me: “Oi, dude, remember me? This is my car. Nice, isn’t it? Very fast, too. I bet you wish you could afford one. Maybe work harder, you know?”

His lower jaw dropped a little.

Me: “Anyway, can’t stop to chat; I gotta get to London. See ya. Oh, and you might wanna grow up a little.”

I let the 911 pull a little wheelspin and rolled away.

My boss and I had a disagreement about working from home this week. The office is in San Francisco. I live in the East Bay and need to cross the Bay Bridge to get to work.

We had an important presentation scheduled today. I wanted to do it “virtual” because the APEC [Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation] meeting is in SF this week, and everything seems disrupted. President Biden and Chinese President Xi are here. It’s a two-hour commute on a typical day, and I told my boss it might not be feasible to come in this week.

He insisted I come in.

Me: “Okay, but don’t blame me if I get stuck in traffic.”

We had a pretty heated discussion about it.

Today there’s a huge backup on every freeway toward the Bay Bridge because protesters have chained themselves across all five lanes. The bridge is completely closed.

Now, the boss wants me to do the presentation “virtual”.

Me: “I can’t. I’m stuck in traffic. I can’t operate my vehicle and do the presentation. You will have to do it without me.”

(But he isn’t really qualified.)

The presentation ended up being rescheduled.

I’ve never met anyone so determined to dig themselves into a hole. It all started when I was picking up my daughter from school. I parked on the street with the driver’s side of the car on the street side and the passenger side near the sidewalk.

[Daughter]’s car seat was behind the driver’s seat, so I had to stand in the street to buckle her in. Then, I opened the driver’s door, got in, and reached for the door to close it. I had almost closed it — it was only a little ajar — when a Honda Civic plowed into it so hard that my door sliced into the Civic’s bumper. The other driver backed up until I could fully open my door again, and I saw that the Civic was maybe eight inches from my car. Who drives so close to parked cars?

Usually, I would just exchange information and that would be it, but the guy got out and had a huge attitude. He started lecturing me.

Guy: “You need to look around before opening your door! I had no time to react!”

LOL. If I had taken more time to get in, he would have hit me.

He definitely could have avoided me. The street was not narrow, and there was not even a sidewalk on the other side. He had plenty of room.

We started to exchange information, and I thought I smelled alcohol on his breath. My husband soon arrived with our other daughter because I called and let him know what had happened. The guy tried to give my husband the whole “Women drivers, am I right?” spiel, and my husband verbally tore him a new a**hole.

My husband confirmed that he also smelled alcohol, so we called the cops. The other guy was all for it. He wanted the cops called and wanted to talk to them. Cool.

My girls ran around the schoolyard as each of us gave our statements. Mine was pretty cut and dry, so soon, my husband and I were just standing around while the cops talked to the driver of the Civic. Not long after, we overheard him fail the breathalyzer.

He was arrested, and I’m driving a rental until we see if my car can be fixed.

Customer: “I heard about these Teslas and how advanced they are.”

Me: “Yes, they’re quite high-tech!”

Customer: “I saw the autopilot thing. That s*** really works?”

Me: “Depending on where you’re driving, yes, it works! It does come as a monthly cost, though, so—”

Customer: “You gotta pay extra? That’s annoying. I’m not even convinced it’s safe! What if it crashes? Do these things come with an ejector seat?”

Me: “Uh… no, sir, they do not.”

Customer: “So, that’s another extra I gotta pay for? Man, when you add in all the things you see in the ad, these things are really expensive.”

He walked away, leaving me wondering exactly what ad he saw where the Tesla demonstrated an ejector seat.

I am visiting friends out of state and have rented a car. Since I don’t drink, I am the designated driver for my friends when we go to a party. After dropping everyone off, I get on the wrong freeway and am immediately lost.

As this is before the time of smartphones and GPS, I pull over to the shoulder and call my roadside assistance provider.

Roadside Assistance: “Let me put you through to the California Highway Patrol.”

She makes several attempts, but for some reason, the call never goes through. Hearing the panic in my voice, she comes up with a plan B.

Roadside Assistance: “Based on what you’ve told me, you’re actually near this office. I’m about to go off shift. Stay put, and I’ll find you.”

Me: “Are you sure? I can just—”

Roadside Assistance: “You’re a young woman in a car alone at night in a part of the country that’s strange to you. Stay put. Give me ten.”

Ten minutes later, she rolled up. She guided me not only to the right freeway but all the way to the correct freeway exit. And then, with a wave goodbye, she drove back into the night.