A drunken asshole punched out my wing mirror today. Here’s how it happened.
I was driving along a 5-lane city street and saw a guy in the middle of the road ahead of me, slowly making his way through the traffic to the other side. He was American Indian, maybe 50 years old, with some missing teeth and an unshaven face. We made eye contact as I approached him at about 25 or 30 miles per hour, and I saw the face of a guy with an axe to grind. Whether he didn’t like the fact that I didn’t stop to let him cross in front of me, or couldn’t wait the extra three seconds it would have taken me to pass him, I don’t know. At the last moment he leaned in and my driver’s side mirror made contact with his fist, ripping the entire mirror apart from its housing and leaving it dangling by its cables. I shouted, ‘Moron!‘ and pulled over into the parking lot he’d walked into. I looked out to see him walking toward me with his fists clenched, spoiling for a fight. Not wanting to get punched, I drove away and decided to pay a visit to the police department. An officer took my statement, but I don’t expect much to be done.
The total bill to fix it? $218. It ain’t just a mirror, you see: it’s heated, servo-remote controlled, and houses a light which illuminates the outside of the vehicle when the doors are opened or unlocked. This dunderhead idiot cost me two-hundred and eighteen dollars because he’s a jaywalking jackass without the wherewithal to appreciate the value of property or what it costs. He’d prefer to get sloshed by lunchtime every morning and receive the handouts from taxation, the fruit of MY labour.
As for him: he probably broke his hand. To remove a mirror from its housing with your fist as it passes you at 30 mph is likely to cause some kind of injury.
Let’s hope so, anyway.