I was cruising along the Midland Hwy, the full moon casting a pale light on the landscape.
Stars tailing off into infinity, I had the windows down (because my air-con doesn’t work) and the music blaring.
It was the sort of scene that opens a really cool movie, where I’m the really cool main character, who’s very cool, driving back from a cool concert in Bendigo.
I was brooding and thinking about things that I assure you were deep and meaningful, and if you had access to my inner monologue at the time you’d think, ‘wow this guy is cool to be thinking those things’.
However, dear reader, the ambiance, the vibe, the je ne sais quoi of the thing was shattered by someone not just daring to share the Midland Hwy with me at 11pm on a Tuesday, but to come at me with high beams ON.
I don’t understand why people drive with high beams on for more than a few seconds. I realise it's just a thing some people do. As long as you turn them off when someone else is approaching (and preferably before you go around the corner) then we’re cool.
This incident was not cool.
From the horizon all the way to passing me, the high beams were searing through my eyes, my brain and my soul, and suddenly my inner monologue was shattered from composing my own version of Xanadu to hatred for this mystery driver, who had high beams on while driving on a dead-straight section of road on the night of a full moon.
I tried to understand why they might do such a thing. What could drive someone to such an act? And could it justify it?
They couldn’t see: I’ve already set the scene here, and it was a full moon (or close enough to it, I’m not an astronomer) and the road was dead straight. If you need high beams to see where you’re going in this situation then you need to get your eyes checked. Also you’ve made me not see. Nope. Get outta here.
Their high beams were stuck on: I’m not even sure if this is physically possible, but maybe they weren’t able to turn them off.
Maybe there was someone really tall driving the car, a la Police Academy or that Simpsons episode where the really tall man drives the largest automobile he could afford.
Does it excuse having high beams on? Not really, no. Move your knee. Cut off the offending leg. Don’t have your high beams on.
They’re scared of the dark: Okay, sure. One, you’ve got to be at least 16 to be behind the wheel of a car, and at that age if you’re scared of the dark then I don’t know what to tell you.
Well actually, I do. And I’m gonna say it (had you there for a second, didn’t I?), so point two — you’re scared of what’s in the dark, not of the dark itself.
And you’re behind the wheel of a car doing at least 100km/h. Whatever was in the dark — which for the record, was me and a couple of sheep — was more scared (read: blinded) of you than you were of it. Not a justification.
They deliberately targeted me: Perhaps this particular person knew me, and knew that I’d be in Bendigo. Perhaps they know how much I despise having high beams shone into my face.
And — avid readers (all right, there’s only one avid reader — hi Mum) of this column will know I don’t like to exaggerate or make a mountain out of a molehill, but there’s every chance this was a targeted attack.
Against me, personally. Which would kind of check out. Hatred of me is a fair justification for why the driver had their high beams on. I might allow this one.
They’re just a jerk: Yeah, this one checks out.