The Justified Road RageBackhander: A blow made with the back of the hand, usually to the head.
Following a hard week at work and an unavoidable flight delay, Pete was not in the best mood when his plane finally touched down. Luckily for Pete, his beautiful wife and energetic son welcomed him at the local airport following his long stint at work in Sydney. As Pete enjoyed the short car ride home he reflected on the two weeks ahead of him: feet up, a couple of beers, mow the lawn, catch a few waves and enjoy some delicious home-cooked meals.
As they neared an intersection on the run home, a massive 4WD failed to give way and nearly cleaned them up. It was a good thing that Pete’s wife was a competent driver. At eighty kilometres per hour, she swerved to avoid the lunatic while Pete almost peed his pants. He had just seen his life flash before his eyes.
At the next intersection Pete got out of the car, sauntered over to the off-roader and calmly confronted the driver.
“Mate, you nearly took us out back there. What on earth were you thinking?” he asked.
The driver of the 4WD, a fifty year-old smarty pants, took an instant line of defence. “What do you mean old boy? I gave you heaps of room back there,” he retorted. He was quite sure of the fact that he had done no wrong.
Pete’s blood started to boil.
“Listen here! You nearly killed me and my family back there you boofhead, so pull your head in and listen up!” Pete continued.
The man was still adamant he had done no wrong. He was a blatant smart arse and showed no remorse.
At that point, Pete blew his fuse. With perfect precision and impeccable timing, Pete leaned into the 4WD and gave the driver the best backhander he had ever unleashed. With the pent up rage and strength of ten men, he scalloped the driver fair in the back of the head with all the force he could manage. The driver’s Alex Perry sunglasses went flying as his forehead banged heavily onto the steering wheel.
Pete was normally a mild mannered fellow, but when his family was threatened in any way he certainly aimed up.
Pete marched back to his family car. As he turned for a last look at the 4WD, he noticed the driver snapping off photos of his wife’s number plate.
Pete stormed back to the cowering driver. With venom in his voice and through gritted teeth, he gave a final word of advice.
“If I ever see you around these parts again driving like a lunatic, I will track you down and punch port holes in you! You can take your case to the coppers if you like, but I’ve never heard of anybody being locked up for giving a backhander to a knuckle head before,” he said.
With a skip in his step, Pete returned to his ride and happily made his way home. He smirked to himself as he mowed his lawn with pride and was laughing out loud by the time he cracked his first cold beer on the deck.
“Welcome home,” he cheered.