So, now that I live in a new town and have been traveling back and forth b/ween my new home and old home I've been experiencing lots of shitty drivers on the way. Each time I am travelling back and forth (about two and a half hours each way) I find myself cursing in between all the singing I do to pass the time. My cursing is in reaction to all the shitty drivers I encounter! I definitely have mild to moderate road rage... I think i get it from my dad. Now I will never be one of those crazy people who try to run bad drivers off the road b/c I get so angry w/them or pull out a gun and start shooting at them (wait I don't own a gun, I do own some bullets however... but now I'm just digressing) like some crazy man did in a made for tv movie w/road rage. However, I do swear at them at the top of my lungs hoping they'll see me in their mirror, flip them the bird, and give them dirty looks and finally I pass them when I've had enough. So here's a few experiences I've had travelling back and forth that really, really pissed me off:
- One day I am driving through this little town making all these turns and zig-zags and this man on a motorcycle is in front of me going seriously 20 mph when the speed limit is 30. I am starting to get mad b/c I hate driving through this town b/c of all the turns and zig-zags and stop lights. Anyway he is looking at everyting but the damn road! After about 10 minutes of following him and yelling he decides to slowly and w/out warning turn to the right on to this small side street. I have to slam by brakes on b/c it took him serioulsy 3 days to make the turn! Soon as he finally turned I sped away and continued singing along to Kelly Clarkson...everything was good again.
- Most of my driving while travelling b/ween homes is through farmland...YAY. There's nothing like the smell of fresh manure and tractors out numbering cars on the road. These tractors piss me off too. They also drive super slow and hold up traffic. I can't stand when traffic is held up b/c there's a tractor on the road and it's in a no passing zone. Then you have the people who won't pass them once we are in a passing zone. Yes, passing can be scary, but we are out in the middle of no where so there's usually plenty of oppurtunities to pass...unless there's tractors going in both directions holding up traffic. Anyway, this gets me evertyime!
-Finally this isn't really about a bad driver just a cocky driver whos ego can be measured by all the stupid bumpers stickers he has on the back of his "pimped out" eclipse. I saw this driving through the town I hate to drive through. First it made me mad at how oblivious this perosn was, then I just laughed. I am driving behind this Eclipse and he has one of those stupid calvin from calvin and hobbes stickers on it peeing on some rival car's company name. He also had some bumper sticker saying something along the lines of size matters, and finally he had a bumper sticker that said soemthing to the affect of "no fat girls allowed b/c my car bottoms out easily". I was like man if only I could see this stud! Sure enough he stops and parks in front of a building AND we get a red light. I'm thinking "Yes I get to see this cocky bastard...if he ever gets his ass out of his tinted, spoilered, decaled, hot car" Finally, he lifts himself out and what do you know!? he himself is tubby bordering on fat! I was like come on! You put that bumper sticker on your car and YOU are fat! I so wanted to yell something at him about himself being fat, but I didn't. I didn't have the guts to do it.
Anyway, yea those are a few of my enounters w/bad drivers
Peace
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
wow, so much anger it was weird to see the word Peace at the end of the blog. heh. Don't worry too much about drivers. Sure some ppl drive better than others, but all things come to pass=) Just continue to sing to Kelly!
Thanks for the message btw. I am busy today, but am going to try and call you at least leave a message of some sort. Hope things are going well at work and with everything!
Much Love,
Alexa;)
Post a Comment