A Story wherein I escape death and/or a savage beating

On the road, there is one particular type of vehicle that stands out above the rest. Whenever people see it, they immediately recognize the danger and go out of their way to avoid it. Anyone that might drive one of these vehicles is considered legally insane. Purchasing one instantly lands you on the Government's Watch List. What is that vehicle? It is, of course... THE MINIVAN!

 Now, in case you live under a rock and therefore cannot actually be reading this right now because rocks have such terrible internet connections, take a look at this:

Frightening. Terrifying, even.

Today, as I drove home from work, I saw a kid trying to race. In a van. Smoke poured out of his exhaust; his tires left streaks on the pavement. He got up to 30 by the time I was half a mile passed him. I had to put forth all my efforts to get away from someone so frightening and obviously tough. His toughness radiated from every aspect of his van. The bulkiness. The sliding door with Child Lock on. The little decal on the back window telling the world that he's the proud mother of a [small town] Soccer Player.

He's obviously the tuffest of the tuff. Definitely not some annoying suburban kid that didn't get his license on time so he had to be escorted on every date in the same vehicle he now drives.

"Wow, you are a really shitty artist."

Yes. Yes, I am.

Moving on. Um... One time, I almost got killed by a roadragin' minivan driver.

It's been a couple of years now. I still had a girlfriend and was right in the middle of my "I CAN GET AWAY WITH ANYTHING" stage that all teenage boys go through. It didn't help that the car I drove at the time had brakes that pretty much required such over-confidence. If I didn't have it, I would spend all my time driving going "ShitshitshitshitshitshitIdontwannadieshiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!"

The brakes, you see, were so reliable that they prompted (read: forced) you to brake the way you're supposed to. That is, you started breaking about a mile before you need to stop.

That is, more or less, how my brakes worked. Parking lots were absolute hell in this car. Especially busy parking lots such as those of a movie theater on Saturday night. Keep that in mind as you read this story.

My girlfriend and I were going to see Land of the Lost on a busy Saturday night. I think it was the week after it came out. Anyway, I couldn't find a single parking space. Not even out in the boondocks. So, I drove around slowly with the idea that going slow would allow the brakes to work better or something. Less momentum = less danger, I suppose. I reached a three way. A minivan was coming from the left, the right was clear and I putted along from the center of the T.

Big deal, right? Except, where I live, there is an abnormal proportion of rednecks driving large trucks, so I didn't see the minivan coming at all. Upon seeing the van, I had about three seconds to make a decision. A normal, rational, y'know... adult. probably would have slammed on the brakes hard enough to force the car to stop. And again, I was going slow enough that I probably could have stopped if I tried. But no. 17-year-old dipshit, "I am the fucking Superman" me decided to speed up. My logic went something along the lines of: The Brakes don't work quite as well as they should, therefore I should go faster than the minivan so that I prevent a crash! FOR SAFETY! TALLY-HO!"

Proof Darwin was probably wrong.

Surprisingly, it worked. Ish. 

Unsurprisingly, Minivan Guy wasn't too happy about being cut off. Like a rational, completely reasonable and totally mature adult, he then started following me. Soon after, we both parked right next to each other and had a solid discussion about road etiquette, both leaving a bit wiser than before.

Nah, just kidding. I ran because I feared for my life that I might have to bust out my mad karate skills and slap a ho.

Picture Unrelated

I had to get away and lose the guy. A plan formed in my mind. "Genius!" I thought. "I'll drive behind the theater and take the exit that leads back around to the front so I'll be back to the public. That way, if he gets out and attacks me, there will be witnesses to say the guy went berserk and randomly attacked me. Hoho, I'm so smart it hurts."

Guess which path I continued on from there

Keep in mind, the entire time this is happening, my antagonist is a guy in a van. While I was panicking at the idea of being pursued and possibly beaten, my raging hormones were laughing at the idea because come on guys he's in a minivan! Bahahaha! Don't you get it? He can't possibly do any real harm to anybody because he's driving a minivan. Hoho. What a chump.

Oddest thing. As soon as one is cornered and the big guy is getting out of his minivan, one's hormones decide that it's time to evacuate. Logic returns! Right?

Yes!

Normally!

If you're not a retarded 17-year-old that gets jumped on adrenaline when he reaches that one level in Super Mario World.

                                     

FUCK YEAH! COME ON, SUPER MARIO WORLD! BRING IT!

All right! It's Game Time! From here on out, pick out every single one of the bad decisions I made this night. The winner gets to have my babies. Ladies.

Or a high five. Guys.

I sped up to avoid a wreck because I'd heard that might actually work sometimes. It worked. When I realized I was being followed, I chose to try and get back in front of the building where there would be witnesses. I ended up in a dead end because I'm directionally challenged. I get blocked in at the dead end seen above. Guy flips me off. As a side note, I'm a sarcastic asshole. Whenever someone does something immature, I'll usually give them a thumbs up and obnoxiously say, "Way to be mature!" Back on topic and completely unrelated to that last statement (ahem.) I give the guy a thumbs up and my pretentious smile.

Guy gets pissed off, jumps out of his van and starts stomping towards me. I lock all the doors because that's going to stop a hormonally imbalanced road raging monster. At the very last minute, I notice a gap between the Testosterone Abuser and the rear bumper of his van. With access to my cell phone, my girlfriend's cellphone and common sense I decide to call the po---no, I slammed into drive and drove between the two, narrowly avoiding hitting his bumper and getting my window punched in the process.

I managed to get out on a main road, lose the Gorilla and get off scot free! Yay me!

I even got to go get ice cream before my movie! And then I saw my movie!

All that trouble for this movie.

And that's how I almost got killed in a road-rage incident.