Confessions of an Agressive Driver

I hate the way you drive. It actually makes me crazy. I think you're stupid, incapable and slow. If you are in my way, you are nothing more than an imbecile who I would gladly do away with if the missile launch button glued to my steering wheel was anything more than wishful thinking. I confess, I am an aggressive driver. I'm a full throttle, bumper sucking, loud mouthed, road hog. I also know that you are a lousy driver.

Why is it every time I get in my car, some geriatric, Cadillac driving jerk decides to pull out right in front of me? You know the one, they drive at 10 miles BELOW the speed limit, looking outside their windows like they're hunting for garage sale signs so they can swoop in and buy some happening depression glass or a 1970's brown checked kitchen apron they're been hankering for?

When the light turns green they're still checking their perm in the gigantic rear view mirror instead of riding that accelerator, like it says to do in the drivers handbook. No use honking, it will only slow them down, as they look around bewildered until they finish adjusting the bench seat or talking about the bridge game with their dying spouse. IT MAKES ME CRAZY.

I can honestly feel the muscles in my shoulders tightening and the red glow rising up my neck.

"MOVE YOUR BOAT GRANDMA! WE STILL HAVE PLACES TO GO BEFORE WE DIE!"

And it's not just the extremely old. It's also all you loonies with your iThis and eThats in the car. Why are we taking pictures from behind the windshield or talking to Mary-Lou when there is driving to do? You don't see Richard Petty or Michael Schumacher chatting with the pit crew about which weight of oil they'd like to try on the next stop, cause, THEY'RE TOO BUSY DRIVING!

sigh... [exhale] ...okay. Calming down. I'll just pull over into the slow lane and take a quick breather....

Why are you braking?! What... Why are you. I cannot even see around you. What possessed you to buy the largest black SVU in the FREAKING WORLD anyway?! All I see are shadows of bodies moving inside. Are you having a picnic in there. Are you bathing your children. What could you possibly be slowing for when all the other lanes are speeding by... too fast for me to even merge. Now me and this colossal line of followers are stuck behind you...

An accident. You were inspecting an accident. Fantastic. Were you able to lend assistance? Did you help the wounded? I'm sure the police and fire department appreciated your assistance. No. You just needed to SLOW DOWN AND LOOK!? YOU know what! I didn't even glance at it. I stayed cemented to your bumper the entire time. You know why. BECAUSE IT HAD ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH ME?!) #)%$ *&@!

I hate the way you drive. All of you. People slower than me are jerks and folks who pass me are maniacs. I think I just stole that from someone, but right now, I don't care. I just want to get off this road before I start ramming into Hondas and Fords....

2 comments:

Queenbear said...

OMG! You sound so much like my husband! Hilarious!!!

maliamania@blogspot.com said...

Two out of three psychotherapists say venting is the best therapy for road rage, so you should now be well on the road to mellowness. Seething definitely becomes you. Inspiring post.