This post was to be entitled, “You Drive Like a Dick,” but hey–it’s the holidays. And in case you haven’t noticed, people drive even more dickishly (copyright, ERG) now than at other times of the year. Hence, the new title.
In keeping with the holiday spirit, it is my considered opinion that people are now driving worse than ever. Both of the regular followers of this blog know that I have a bit of a petulant streak when it comes to my fellow drivers, e.g.., “Overcourteous Assholes Like Me.” Last year, I was irritated. This year, I fear for my life. This year, a new classless class of drivers has appeared, a class that adheres to the following three point credo:
I. The rules of driving apply to you, not to me.
II. Get out of my way.
III. My car/truck is a two ton steel weapon on wheels which I am willing to use to injure, maim, or kill if you slow me down or generally do anything that pisses me off.
I refer to this new class of driver as “sodding slugfucks.” But not to their face. This is why I don’t refer to these people as “sodding slugfucks” to their face: Detroit Driver Shot in Face in Road Rage Incident. If you have ever been tempted to get out of your car to discuss driving etiquette with someone, this article will surely disabuse you of that silly notion. Please don’t.
It has come to my attention that otherwise reasonable people can and do behave like sodding slugfucks when they drive. I know this, because I live on an island. When you live on an island, you occasionally find yourself in a situation of being assaulted by a sodding slugfuck while driving, only to subsequently realize that both of you are driving to the same destination. On one occasion, that destination turned out to be our mutual place of employment. We parked next to each other. Somewhat awkward. On another occasion, the sodding slugfuck cut me off, tried to hit me, then screamed at me through my window before we both ended up in my neighborhood, only to realize that we live on the same block. Even awkwarder.
With the foregoing in mind, perhaps it would be a holiday mitzvah to point out the type of activity that may lead to the realization that even you may be acting like a sodding slugfuck. So you can stop. As kind of a public service, I offer the following:
–Over the last six months, I have witnessed several guys who, in the middle of the day and at a busy intersection, decided that waiting for a traffic light to turn green was for losers, so they proceeded to just sprint across the intersection against the light. This causes every other driver to screech to a halt, wondering what the hell just happened and whether civilization as we know it has come to an end and nobody told us. If you were one of these guys, and you didn’t jump the light because your wife was in active labor at a nearby hospital, then you, sir, are a sodding slugfuck. Don’t do that anymore.
–I still pull over when I see an ambulance, lights flashing, come racing up behind me. Call me old-fashioned, I know. Other drivers may just drive faster to try to stay ahead of the ambulance, but last I checked that was kind of against the law. What I’ve noticed now with frightening regularity, however, is that once the ambulance has passed, some sodding slugfuck (sometimes a whole string of sodding slugfucks) is chasing so closely behind the ambulance that I’m nearly killed when I try to pull back into my lane. Unless you are related to the poor sap in the back of the ambulance, if you don’t let me back into my lane because you’re speeding behind the ambulance, you are a sodding slugfuck. Or an ambulance-chasing lawyer, in which case you are also a sodding slugfuck.
–It appears that many drivers incur physical pain if they are required to use the brake while driving. This must be some type of new epidemic, because I witness this ailment at least a half dozen times a day. The symptoms are evident when a car slows to make a right hand turn and the car behind, instead of braking slightly to let the guy turn, swerves around him into the left turn lane. Or in my recent experience, across the double yellow line to nearly hit me head-on, requiring me to veer off the road and almost hit a tree. Main Street in my little hamlet is not the Nouvelle Chicane in Monaco, okay? If you do this, please stop being a sogging slugfuck. You’re going to kill someone. Maybe me.
I could go on, but it’s the holidays. I’ll save the rest for next year–like how your horn doesn’t make all the cars stuck in traffic ahead of you magically disappear. Really.
Happy Holidays. Don’t Drive Angry!