You can ask my wife... I'm a real laid back person, very slow to anger - but once you get me angry, I'm vindictive, cruel, and a fiendishly evil thinker.

So today I decided to post this story on a truck forum in a thread about people messing with your ride, and I figured I'd recall it here as well. It was in 1998 or so, I'd not long had my license, and the car my uncle left for me when he moved to the states wasn't much, and I treated it like hell, but damnit if anyone else was going to mistreat it.

Some friends and I were at a skate ramp when this kid named Jye shows up. Apparently some of my friends knew him, but I didn't know him, and I don't think he knew me. He sat on his really expensive mountain bike while we were jumping off the dirt pile someone had thoughtfully left right near the ramp for us, and the entire time he didn't do anything but talk crap (not just to me, to everyone). I didn't really do anything, and after a while boredom set in so he decides he'll have some fun throwing clumps of dirt around, and eventually one hit my car.

I told him to knock that off, not to be throwing dirt in my car... so he throws another, which knocks the face off my CD player in the dash. So I confront him and tell him to knock it the hell off. This continues on for a bit, until I get tired and decide to leave.

Fatboy decides to jump on his bike and put it right in front of me so I can't get out. His entire attitude was "what're you going to do about it", turning and looking back at me, pride filling his big fat cheeks like a delicious cupcake.

So I did what any normal, idiotic, testosterone-filled teenager would do when he's challenged by someone so aggravatingly inferior - I floored it. Just enough to send the bumper of my car up on top of that expensive 26" back rim with the disc brakes. My early-eighties Ford sat precariously atop that rim for what seemed like an eternity, while the reality of the situation sunk through the layers of celulite caked on this kid's brain.

Just as the realization hit him like a ton of cookies, that rim folded over. He drug what was left of a terribly expensive mountain bike off to the side, while I drove off - several other guys in an uproar of laughter at what had just taken place. Tears in his puffy eyes, he swore he'd have "his brother" talk to me about replacing his bike...

Well I saw him and some other sasquatch that I assumed to be his brother in the street a few weeks later and neither of them said a damn thing to me. Vengeance was mine that day.

Montpelier, Indiana 47359 fwaggle

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