Man, do I hate tailgaters. If the term is different in your neck of the woods, I refer to those drivers who think personal space isn’t important. I refer to those drivers who haven’t guessed how likely a rear-end collision will be. I refer to idiots.
I see no logical reason for a person to follow closely behind my car. I’m not going to speed up. All I’m going to do is run a verbal commentary on what s/he is thinking. “Hi, I’m Mr. Rudypants* and I want to show how stupid I am by riding your butt. How’s it working for ya??”
This action not only fails to achieve the person’s purpose (speed up or move), it also puts me on edge. I drive with heightened anxiety. If the car in front of me stops, what’s going to happen to Rudypants?
Man, do I hate speedsters. Pedal-to-the-medalers. Hot rods. Also idiots.
You’re not impressing anyone with your ability to break the speed limit. Seriously; I’m a minivan and I can do exactly the same thing. When are you going to stop, anyway -at 100 mph? The white and black signs with numbers on them do exist for a reason.
My favorite is when a driver tailgates my car up the onramp, then guns it and barely scrapes around my car as s/he peels down the highway. You go, girl.
And man, do I hate impatience.
Oh. Right. So… what’s your road rage/pet peeve? Would you drive me crazy?
©2022 Chel Owens
This here’s what I wrote for the last two weeks:
Wednesday, March 16: “A Phrase By Any Other Language…” in which we discussed apt expressions worldwide.
Friday, March 18: Behold, The Unidachshund.
Saturday, March 19: Winner of the Terrible Poetry Contest: Colleen!!
Sunday, March 20: A quote by Steve Jobs.
Monday, March 21: Mormon Monday! It’s okay, you can repent.
Tuesday, March 22: Announced the biweekly Terrible Poetry Contest. YOU HAVE TILL TOMORROW TO SEND IN AN ENTRY!! We’re writing burlesque. It’s fun!
Wednesday, March 23: My birthday. Thank you for all the kind wishes.
Friday, March 25: Friday Photo. It’s nice.
Sunday, March 27: Aristotle’s quote. You know, about the snow he lived in.
Monday, March 28: I’m a Mormon, So I’m prudish.
©2022 Chel Owens
*I have standards about swearing, remember? Oh, and there are kids in the car a lot.