Freeway Fury



I’d like to talk about driving for a moment if I might…

I absolutely cannot wait for the self-driving car.  This needs to happen yesterday.  And I say this because, after commuting for 12 years, I now have enough data to conclude, non-anecdotally, that the majority of people cannot be trusted behind the wheel of an automobile.

Take, for example, the guy behind me this morning on my way to work.  We’re gridlocked and plodding along I-10 at 25mph in the fast lane (like you do on I-10, no matter the time of day), and this grey Nissan Pathfinder comes up behind me and starts flashing his lights.  My first thought is that he’s trying to get my attention because something’s wrong with my car.  So I check my instrument data; all seems fine.
So I ignore him and continue rolling along.

*flash flash*  flash flash*

I glance up in the rear view mirror and see a wild-eyed Middle Eastern man behind the wheel of said Pathfinder, waving his hands to convey the message that he wants to pass me.
This idiot heard somewhere that you’re supposed to flash your lights at the people who are going too slow in the fast lane.  This is absolutely true.  The problem is that he thinks it works no matter the circumstances.  So simply because HE wants to go faster than what the surrounding traffic dictates, we should therefore all get out of his way.  Yes Mensa Boy, we all actually want to drive this speed.  None of us are in a rush, you see.  That’s why we decided to get on the freeway.

i10trafficThis is about what it looked like.

So I wave at the surrounding traffic and shrug, a semaphore meant to convey, “where exactly do you think you’re going?

*flash flash*  *flash flash*

This continues for a few minutes, and finally a lane gets added to our left.  He punches the gas and swerves into that lane, and yells at me and points on the way by.  As if I were the one who didn’t understand how traffic works and that he deserves to be made way for.

Now I’ve had a rough morning already.  Both of our A/C units have started to buckle under the 100+ degree Texas heat, I’ve been fighting (and losing) a war against a colony of Rasberry Crazy Ants in my bathroom and living room, our sprinkler system has a loose valve somewhere and needs repairing,  and the water heater upstairs is pounding like a jack-rabbit every time someone turns on/off the tap.  All this plus the massive veterinary bills for Jib have set me a bit on edge.

And all of these things were squarely on top of me when I left for work this morning.  So the last thing I need is some mouth-breathing simp who lacks the cognitive capacity to hammer a nail, nevermind understand the optimal spatial flow of multi-vehicular transit, talking smack.


So I calmly merge into the lane behind him, and begin flashing my lights.  He responds by flipping me off.

*flash flash*  *flash flash*

He points at the car in front of him and flips me off again.

I gasp, point at my head to indicate that, “Good Lord! A logical thought has somehow arced its way across your decayed and useless dendrites!” and I clap.

But, rather than taking this as a learning moment, he responds by becoming even more infuriated and decides to swerve back into the right lanes and try to GTA his way around everyone.

Naturally, this does not work and I glide by as he’s stuck creeping behind a 18-wheeler hauling telephone poles.

I shake my head sadly at him.  He responds by making a hand puppet that looks like a talking mouth.

Yeah, guy.  Next time maybe you should let the puppet drive…


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