dear suck-ass shitty vehicular-manslaughterers of america, europe, the middle east, and other parts of the world that my friend dana isn’t quite sure exist because she hasn’t seen them with her own eyes, so how should she know if maps are really telling the truth or not?
you are not better than me, so please stop cutting me off on the road in order for you to get to where you’re going to on time. your drug dealers will still have your stash if you’re two minutes late, and you’ll feel a lot better knowing my arm isn’t dangling off of my body as i lay in an ambulance telling my horrified mother that i feel cold, so cold. no one’s impressed with your disregard for the signal; i happen to find flipping my signal on as a fun activity on days when driving straight and obeying the speed limit feels oppressive and tedious. in fact, during my driver’s test, i was positive that if anything, even if i had run over the cones during parallel parking, or hit a cyclist while making a left turn (extra points for hitting cyclists, right? you’re not exempt from obeying traffic lights because you’re on two wheels and wear painted-on pants), flipping on the signal was going to earn me extra points.. that and my charming smile….sans food in my teeth. USE YOUR SIGNAL, ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE PLANNING TO CUT ME OFF. it’s not like i don’t see your crap of a ford taurus creeping over the white dashed lines, about to ass rape my bumper. actually, don’t signal, because then i’ll speed-up and not let you in, and then you’ll probably pull a gun on me.
and if you ARE going to be a driving dickstick, at least look at me when i drive up to you and stare at you, waiting for you to look over so you can see me shake my head in disappointment. shame on you for pretending that you’re on the phone, or that something more interesting is happening outside your passenger side window. don’t look out THERE, because most likely, there’s a driver coming up to you on that side, too, someone who’s trying to catch your eye as well, because you cut them off or crept up the shoulder in a line of traffic, only to insist on getting in front of this mother of two, her kids begging to know why some people are so rude, why the world is so injust. LOOK HER IN THE EYE, CREEP. TAKE THE PAIN WHEN HER KIDS FLIP YOU THE BIRD WITH THEIR TINY, ANGELIC FINGER. you are the end of innocence, mazda sports car, with your shame-concealing tinted windows.
and finally… to all of you camden, nj drivers… the ones making a left onto the 7th street bridge… the ones who speed up in the left lane which always goes faster, who left turn into the middle lane on the bridge, and then cut-off the drivers in the right lane because that’s the lane you really wanted, but the line for that lane was too long – i am aware of your sins. i watch you, and i’m the one who inches my car up to lightly kiss the back bumper of the road abiding citizen in front of me, the one who stares at your tires with intense hate, willing my harry potter powers to pop your tires or explode your transmission. get in the right lane from the get-go, wait in line like the rest of us, and i won’t be forced to invent a metal arm that extends from the sides of my car like wings to use in the same way that a kindergartner extends his arms when he and his classmates line-up at the door for recess, and he doesn’t want anyone to get in front of him.
honk twice if you love courteous drivers ❤