Roadguy loves his mailbag, especially during busy weeks like this one, because mail gives him lots to post without lots of typing. Yesterday I got the following e-mail from one of my favorite correspondents, Dale the Truck Driver, whose vantage point high above the Twin Cities roadways offers some unique perspectives. (He told us about teens and texting here.) For a look at merging gone awry, read on:

Roadguy, here is an interesting merging tale. Monday morning around 6 a.m., I was driving south on 169 to 62 and go east. [Click here for aerial image.] I was driving my 80,000-pound semi.

I approached the 62 bridge, signaled to exit, and I observed a minivan coming up the loop. He was nearing the apex when I started moving over. Sounds simple — I have the right of way, I am ahead of this minivan, should be an easy transition.

Wrong. Mr. Minivan sped up on my right side, squeezing himself between the bridge wall and me, 40 tons of truck. He apparently was trying to make a point that I was clearly wrong in my actions of exiting the highway. I was now on the brakes trying not to run this guy under my trailer; somehow, he managed to get in front of me and stop, now on the exit ramp. I had traffic on my left that was passing me; I had nowhere to go but stop.

As I watched the window come down a man’s — or should I say, a crybaby’s — face appeared and started yelling at me. I really have no idea what was being said, but I am pretty sure I was being insulted. This went on for about 2 minutes as traffic came to a standstill behind us. What really surprised me was that Mr. Minivan started throwing garbage at me. Bags, bottles, anything he could get his hands on.

He started to finally move down the ramp, and I figured he was done. Wrong again. More bottles and screaming…. I have had objects thrown at me before — I guess some people think that if a semi is sharing the road that I have no rights.

I do not appreciate being pelted by bottles, and maybe Mr. Minivan should clean his vehicle out somewhere else other than a roadway. But more importantly, maybe he should read [up] on proper merging laws and take an anger-management class or two.

What is disturbing is the size of the truck has no bearing on what his actions were. No patience at all.

Another incident happenened on 169 near 95th Ave. in Brooklyn Park on Saturday. [Map here.] Driving north, again loaded; a man in his Tahoe decided he needed to be in front of me so he could exit at 610. He was moving pretty good when he spotted his opening in front of me about 2 car lengths. When he cut in front of me, the car in front of him hit his brakes, making Mr. Tahoe slam on his brakes. I moved to the shoulder so I didn’t push him into the next 4 or 5 cars ahead of us.

My thanks, when I moved back behind him, was [for him] to slam on his brakes again for no reason other [than] to make his point that I must not know how to drive. I should also note that he had a teenager riding with him, so I am guessing that [in addition to] the profanities and insults directed at me, I can look forward to seeing this young man have the same driving habits as his father.

Good grief. As a Monty Python character might exclaim, “It’s a simple question of weight ratios!” The semi can’t slow down the way a minivan or a Tahoe can, and drivers would be wise to behave accordingly. Actually, they would be wise to just behave, period — and that means no throwing bottles at Dale or cussing in front of one’s kids. If only Mr. Minivan and Mr. Tahoe had those 1-800 “how’s my driving?” phone numbers on their vehicles for Dale to call.

Roadguy may not have his own 800 number, but keep those comments, links and e-mails coming.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 18th, 2007 at 6:05 am and is filed under Scenes and stories, Transportation conversations. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.