I had a stand off once. It was very amusing. Lots of narrow country lanes with big hedges round here. I was in a large Jeep, something I don't usually drive, but I had been helping my friend out in the fields that day (this will be relevant later).
I met a middle-aged man, suited and booted, posh shiny Jag (I think it was a Jag, could have been a Merc or BMW or something of that ilk). Not enough room for his shiny car and my beat-up old Jeep to pass. There was indeed a passing place on my side about 100 yards back, not visible from where we were as it was round the corner, but I had very good reasons for not reversing back to it. There was a field gate about 30 yards behind him which would have served.
We both stopped, and I wound the window down to tell him he needed to reverse, please. Cue much indignation and gesturing. I asked again, this time the gestures got ruder.
It was at this point that my mate came along, like the proverbial cavalry, in the combine harvester which we were in the process of moving
My role was to act as a version of the men with flags in front of old-timey cars to warn other drivers that there was something big coming down the road that they would need to make way for.
I don't think there is any colour-chart which contains the shade of puce which was on his face. He was apopletically (sp?) furious. I think it was the fact that a young lady in an old scruffy workhorse had just showed him up. He did reverse, eventually, and with poor grace and much swearing. Still makes me smile.