I’m cruising around on the Harley, and make a left onto a metered onramp to get onto the freeway. I make note of the fancy new Tacoma next to me, also making a left onto the freeway. I check my mirrors as I enter the onramp, making sure no one is riding my ass approaching the red meter light. The teenager in the Tacoma must have been staring at his phone, because he hasn’t even started making the left yet. Good, so I head towards the freeway, briefly thinking I should just blow through the meter since I’m the only one on the ramp. I decide to be a good boy, and slow my roll as I approach the meter, stop, and wait for it to turn green.
Before it does, I hear screeching tires behind me. Fuck. I immediately start to release the clutch, and give a little peaksy in my mirror, just in case I might be able to see death right before he careens into me. As I look innthe mirror, a big white blur passes maybe a foot from my right arm. It’s the Tacoma, and homeboy is the Oppo champ, as me managed to avoid both me, and the retaining wall, correcting his skid and merging into traffic like a boss.
After giving a round of internal applause, I notice there’s another white Toyota, this one a Four Runner, sitting diagonally across the onramp, a couple feet from my rear fender. I give the driver “what the fuck?” hands as I point at the meter light, and he rolls down his window and apologizes.
I get the hell off that onramp, and see the Tacoma getting off on the next exit. Against my better judgement, I decide we should have a chat. Really bad idea, but I figured after two near misses, today is my lucky day, and he probably won’t shoot me.
We stop in a grocery store parking lot a quarter mile down the road, and the kid rolls down his window. I pull up next to it (again, really bad idea, but I was on a roll). The kid is in tears. He starts apologizing, saying he dropped something and looked down to grab it and didn’t see me sitting there. I wasn’t angy, and am starting to question why I even followed this guy. I was filled with adrenaline, but it was “happy to be alive” adrenaline, not “I want to fucking kill someone” adrenaline. I tell the kid I’m ok, but to remember this feeling, and be extra cautious while driving, especially around motorcycles. I give him a fist bump, and head into the grocery store to buy a lotto ticket.
I don’t know what the deal was with the Four Runner. Only thing I can think of is he was trying to beat the Tacoma to the zipper merge, and didn’t realize the onramp was metered. The Tacoma beat him, swerved to miss me, and then inattentive Four Runner driver sees me sitting there as he’s full throttle down the onramp. Thank god it stayed dry all day.
Holy shit, I need a La Croix. Post epic saves.