Before I begin I have to issue a language alert…in this entry I use language that includes the F-bomb and I also use the Lord’s name in vain. If you are sensitive about this kind of language, take a pass. If not, read on for a good laugh.
On our drive home late this afternoon the funniest thing happened to me. Well, funny in a weird kind of way. But first a little background.
When I drive with my girls in the car I try to do the “safer-thing” when presented with a options. For example, when driving home from shopping, I will go past my destination so that I can turn right instead of having to cross the path of oncoming traffic.
I drive at or very near the speed limit when I have the girls in the car. I do not follow too closely to other cars. In short, I am quite cautious.
So today I was driving home with the girls in the car. And I have to admit that my fuse may have been a little shorter than it typically is. Both of the girls were screaming in unison because they could not get their socks and shoes off and Raffi was singing at too great of a volume about some rotten kid’s mother taking them all to the zoo tomorrow and the traffic in front of me was not moving along very quickly. Perhaps I was a little on edge. Maybe a more than a little on edge.
Anyway, we are driving along, doing something close to 50 kmh, in a stream of traffic, following the car in front of me. The car behind me flashes their high-beam lights at me. In response I gently apply the brakes and slow down and then accelerate back to the speed of the traffic in front of me. They flash their high-beams again. I slow down again and then accelerate back to the speed limit. They repeatedly flash their lights at me again. At this point I will admit that I sort of lost it.
Most people who know me will understand that I really have the patience of a saint. Not so much today. I stopped the car in the middle of the street at an angle so the high-beam flasher could not get by me, I slipped the car into park, pulled on the e-brake and got out of the car.
As I got out of the car all I was thinking about was how Tito Ortiz lost his fight last night and how that made me even more angry and Lord help the asshole in the car behind me.
In a bit of rage I stormed up to the driver’s side of the car behind and demanded to know, “What the FUCK is the Goddamn-FUCKING problem here!!” And as these words came out of my mouth I looked at the driver of the offending car.
A 70-something year old woman rolls down her window and says, “You are poking along here at 37 kmh! Get a move on sonny-boy.”