Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Driver's Ed

Here are a few things I learned on my drive to work this morning:

Don't mess with Minivan Mommas. Especially around the time the kiddos are being rushed to school. Yes, I was crudely (and wrongfully) honked at this morning by a Chrysler Town and Country on a mission while pulling up to a stop light. A STOP LIGHT! However, the snail pace we were cruising at was thanks to LTL E 88 in his old school Eldorado in front of me. I don't know which of MM's rugrats refused to get out of bed this morning and then lolligagged around the house causing their tardiness, but that's not my problem. And to add insult to injury, MM honked again in disgust as she drove past LTL E 88. This is the ONLY time I smiled at the driving abilities of old people.

I hate butts. I am peeved every time I witness a driver in front of me flick a cigarette butt out their window. I have this fear that still-lit cigarette butt will bound under my car, hit my gas tank and ignite my Mazda. While this might be impossible, I think about it every time I see this environmentally unfriendly violation. They didn't equipped vehicles with ash trays for nothing. Oh, you don't like to clean it out. Well here's a novel idea, don't smoke and drive. Problem solved.

Making eye contact with another driver is awkward (and creepy). I think all drivers try to avoid this situation on the road. But sometimes it's inevitable. While trying to change lanes I checked my sideview mirror and looked over my shoulder to double check, and that's when it happened. Eye contact with the driver next to me. Now, one quick glance wouldn't be so bad, but when I saw the male driver look again, and then as his vehicle inched ahead of mine, I saw him look back over his shoulder at me again! In this case, three times is not a charm and just makes this guy a creepo. Or does that make me creepy because I saw him do it?

And I'll throw in one more that happened yesterday. I can't stand drivers with loud cars who rev their engines as they pass you just to get noticed. Sometimes you see a nice car when you react to the loud noise, but 9 times out of 10, it's some low-riding, thugged-out wanna-be gangster in a rusted out Civic with Wal-Mart spinners, custom taillights and a huge exhaust pipe protruding too far out the back of the car. And he's listening to some too-loud rap music you can't understand the words to through shitty, blown out speakers. I pride myself on my inate ability to ignore said douchebags because I refuse to give them the undeserving attention they so desperately want.

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