Raging Road Bull

I had an escort on my drive to work this morning. It was dark, but I could make out the form of a man sitting behind the wheel of a huge land yacht. Crown Victoria, perhaps. It was difficult to tell, as he was a mere six inches from my bumper. What amazing demonstration of driving skills. I was travelling at just a hair over the posted speed, and about one and a half car lengths from the car in front, and my escort was driving as though I didn't exist. Every now and then I could see his animated arm movements. He was obviously annoyed that his right to drive any speed he damned well liked had been revoked by some idiot who had the brazen audacity to be in front of him. That would be me.

No, I didn't speed up. I didn't slow down either. I didn't modify my driving one iota. This was his problem, not mine. Judging by his temperament though, it could easily have become everyone's problem. This bonehead was trying to make me pay for his inability or unwillingness to keep a timely routine. In his world, I am the idiot.

In fact, we careful, law abiding drivers are all guilty. We get in the way of the dimwits with the heavy right foot. We take care to follow the rules of the road, which is really irritating to these highway halfwits. We watch out for other motorists and try very hard to keep from hitting them or running them off the road and killing them. The imbeciles with the speed fetish could care less. They already know that the potential for an accident is considerably higher when they speed. They have accepted that, and are willing to take the risk. Unfortunately, we figure into that equation, because every accident requires a victim.

I got to work on time this morning. I had given myself plenty of time - as I always do. My escort was no doubt on time too...barely, but frazzled, frustrated and angry at being 'delayed'. He probably never questions why his brakes don't last as long as those of his colleagues, or why he uses far more gas, or why it costs him much more to run his vehicle. He's not that bright. He's the guy who races past you and zooms into the distance. "Wow, I'll bet that guy gets where he's going in a hurry", you might think... but no... there he is, waiting for you at the lights. Zooom! He's off on the green. Never to be seen again. Until the next set of lights (insert the Homer Simpson "Doh!" here). It would be funny if it wasn't so damned dangerous.

So. Give me the one finger salute. Wave your arms like you are trying to fly. Yell and curse at me. Bump me, thump me or tailgate me. I've never had a speeding ticket or caused an accident since I started driving 32 years ago, and I'm not about to start now. Go around me and go find someone else to harrass or kill. Hopefully it's another dweeb like yourself - that would be sweet justice. Now go away, tiny-minded one, you bore me.