LOG #RN-004 | Coffee, Tokyo and a Fucking Gravel Truck

Some after-tension wind from yesterday still lingers today, as a far distant memory, and yet still present. Timelines blend into one. Walking through Victory Park in Riga, I suddenly find myself lost in the memories of my time in Tokyo, exploring, cruising, taking in each element. Perhaps these feelings is a reaction to that fresh autumn breeze engulfing my body. Or maybe it's the noticeably cooler temperature this morning. It was enough for me to finally put on a warmer coat. I keep doing this times and times again - get lost in Japan I mean. Feels like part of me never returned. It wanders the dim-lit back-alleys, only to discover some tucked away Izakaya. I light a smoke, take in the view and keep walking. Then there's some other part of me which remains with her. Was I a fool? Or was it how things were always gonna end up due to my ambitious drive for all things life and experience? Who knows. What is true is that nearly a whole year has come around since I started vanning* it.

I intentionally returned to my home country for this summer. To see what's what. Perhaps to reflect on the past 11 years living abroad, away from everything I once knew and called "home". The closest definition to home I ever had was her presence. Tender. Sweet. Kind. Then I... well, shattered it. Walked out in search of valleys, mountains, new perspectives and teachings. For sure I miss it. Wouldn't be writing this entry if I didn't. Still hurts. Still regret how it turned out. Regardless, was the right move at the time. The only card left to play as all other attempts of bridging two different worlds - exhausted. Hope you doing fine out there. Wherever you are.

Perhaps it's the echo of this car incident the other day. Nearly got flatlined whilst approaching a 45 degree right turn with poor visibility and even poorer driving conditions. Gravel road you see. There's more to gravel in this story. As I approach that turn, suddenly, a massive truck carrying, well guess what? fucking gravel, jumps out the corner going who-the-fuck-knows how fast, taking up my whole lane and not giving me any other option but to pull a hard right whilst slamming the brakes. All I remember seeing is these three insanely huge back-wheels I have to avoid at all costs in order to preserve my existence. Don't know how, but I manage. Muthafucka still hits me and bends the driver-side mirror. Naturally, mom is in full-on panic mode. I wait for Mr. Dickins to stop. Hell no. He goes on as if nothing happened. At that very instance my anger kicks into motion and I go: "like fucking hell you are getting away with this shit..."

As I start my 180 flipperoni manoeuvre, amidst calming my mom, I give her a firmer instruction to dial up dad and tell him to run towards the road and stop that damn truck, as it's most likely passing my grandparents' home. Finally the car is facing the right direction, I un-bend my mirror and start speeding after the dimwit, who by now must be a couple of kilometres away. I now speed as fast as a van can go, carving aggressively, yet fully controlled where visibility allows. Yes, the very same turns I drove a couple of minutes ago, peacefully, whilst taking in the taste of my morning coffee... All of a sudden mom cries out, "Please, don't fight!" Right there and then, despite wanting to ditch the cunt's body in the local swamp, I make a vow to my mother—“I won't. I promise.” By now I'm entering the town, going mad 100 as I'm ready to beat the living shaite out of whoever is driving that truck. The promise... The promise... Shit. I see the truck. And my dad. And the damn truck. I honk aggressively as I approach the truck and hit the brakes just behind him. Un-do the damn carabiner locking my door, jump out the van and dash towards the driver, full on shouting and ready to go. He's standing in his doorway, looking downwards at me, clearly knowing what this is about, yet remaining calm. Good on him. Had he not reacted calmly in that situation, there would have definitely been blood. Mine or his, it wouldn't matter. I would have hundred percent lost my nerve and control. After all, he nearly killed me and my mom.

Within seconds the driver stepped out the truck and approached me calmly. Good for him, and to be honest, us both and the whole situation at large. I respect that. I shouted out exactly what went on and how he made me slam the brakes and dive for the ditch to avoid collision due to his shitty driving habit. He immediately admitted fault and apologised. Asked him why he would drive away from smth like that? He said in the mirror it looked like we exchanged with no contact, which of course was wrong, given he hit my mirror and damaged the side-light indicating right turn. Fair enough, there was no way of seeing such detail in a tiny mirror, but regardless, I had clearly fully stopped my vehicle... I went on shouting for some other few minutes before finally calming the shit down. Asked him where he worked, even tho it was clearly written on his uniform and his truck, his full name, his ID, took photos of him and the vehicle. I wanted data as that part of me fighting for what's right didn't want to let this whole thing slide.

Told him—from now on, you take turns in your damn lane, I don't care if you have to slow down and go 20 or whatever. He said he would notify all other drivers to slow the fuck down. Good. Then another exact truck pulled up, asked wtf was up and the driver who nearly hit me briefed his colleague on the whole situation. Then the new driver blurted out, “so same as the other day with driver X...” Of course I was not surprised to hear this wasn't the first such incident. They drive like ass-twats after all. Doing 70 in a town where it clearly says 40. Yeah, yeah, I know.. All because they probably get put on unreal delivery schedules by their shitty ass-bosses running those shitty-ass companies caring about nothing but milking every-damn-minute of each employee for damn profits. Fuck capitalism.

At that point the driver who nearly ran me over became more apologetic and vulnerable, perhaps realising the fact I collected data on him as the driver and the company he worked for gave me options to escalate the situation. I gain nothing from a man losing his job and likely only family income in times when the job market is already rough and living expenses are at an all-time high, so I had no real intentions of pursuing it with authorities / his managers, tho it was important for me that the importance of the whole shaite had sunk in deep. Which it seemed to by now. After a few more minutes of back and forth, I reached out my hand for a shake. We shook and I went back to my mother, to check in and calm her further. After some minutes, we started the 3 hour journey yet again.

I then reflected upon the whole thing over the coming minutes, hours, days. The only thing I didn't like about the situation was the fact I caved into my emotions and lost my temper. I tend to get triggered when I encounter great unfairness. In those moments, some part of me kicks into motion. Those who know me, please don't abuse this lol.

I wonder what would have happened had I reacted half a second too late. This morning breeze, wandering through memories in search of parts of myself scattered across places I've visited, would have had a whole different meaning. Or none at all.

17.08.2026

*Vanning - van-lifing / living in a van. A funny word Alex dropped over text the other day.