Rage of the Road

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am not a patient person at all.

I want my internet to work at an acceptable speed at all times.

I want my DVD’s to always work.

I don’t want to wait around for things to load (drives me bananas).

I ESPECIALLY hate waiting in traffic.

Actually, I just hate traffic in general.

I have really bad road rage. Well, at least I consider it to be terrible.

This is my typical morning:

Get in my car trying to beat the school bus that picks the kiddies up in two locations at my apartment complex.

I would run over a puppy to beat the damn yellow banana (not really, but that’s how I feel some mornings).

Get to the stop sign to turn right and yell at all of the cars in front of me that don’t leave enough room for me to scoot in to turn right (they are all turning left). Our entrance is HUGE. You could fit at least four elephants tail to trunk in it. Why do they feel the need to take up THE ENTIRE RIGHT SIDE?! Move over a couple of feet for crying out loud.

So after yelling profusely at these cars, I take my right hand turn and drive a little ways to the four way stop.

Now let me tell you. People in Minnesota are STUPID drivers. My town was #2 for worst cities to drive in in Minnesota. They do not understand how four way stops work. Well, I am here to tell them.

#1: You come to a complete stop.

#2: Whomever stopped first, gets to go first.

#3. Then you follow in order of who stopped first.

This should be easy peasy for people to remember. Ha! You have those people that come to a rolling stop, then ZOOOM through the sign almost hitting another car who was following the sensible 4-way stop rules. Or you have those who are soooo timid that they sit there and wait and wait and wait and then when you decide to go (because they aren’t) they decide to go. ARG!

So after yelling profusely (again) and shaking my fist at the STUPID ones (like an old demented lady) I take my left turn and drive down to the stoplights.

I’m fine with this stoplight because it’s actually timed nicely and everyone knows either to turn left or go straight (Yay!).

So I calm down for a bit and go through the light.

Now, it’s time to follow the i.m.p.o.s.s.i.b.l.y slooooooowww drivers.

Those that go 20 in a 30 because they are “afraid” of those curvy curves (men-think of it as a woman, go gently and you will be pleasurably surprised) (women-think of it as a melting ice cream cone-you need to lick it at the right speed so it doesn’t drip).

So I growl at them and try and push them to go faster with my mind. (I don’t tailgate people, that’s dangerous and not to mention rude).

This usually doesn’t work as I have yet to figure out how to unlock the 98% of my brain that I’m not using to utilize such powers.

And we get to the WORST STOP SIGN in town. I have no idea why they don’t put a stoplight here.

It’s a T and it’s a busy road because traffic is coming from a different town and flowing the backway into my town. Well we have to sit there and wait and wait and wait and wait to take a Left. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the TIMID ones. The ones that need to wait for at least 6 giraffe lengths (neck to hoof) before they can go. Me? All I need is an alligator length. The TIMID’s drive me up the wall. Nothing gets my goat worse then not turning when you have a chance. Look behind you buddy, there are 10 cars that need to go and we are all in a hurry.

After that passes, I’m good to go for awhile. Alllllll the way until a couple of blocks from work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So before the stoplight it is a two lane. After the stoplight it is a one lane. The right lane is supposed to “merge” with the left lane if you are going straight.

Do you think people know what MERGE means?

Apparantly not.

We will start with me in the nonmerging left lane.

Light turns green. I go straight and the car in the right lane decides to be a dick and not follow the “Minnesota Nice” rule of one car goes, one gets in and tries to “merge” right into my car.

Slap my hand on the horn and blast him with all the fury hell hath given me and glare at him like a woman scorned.

It wouldn’t drive me so nuts if I had enough money to replace my car if he happened to “merge” with me. Or had full coverage on my car (which I do not since it’s so old). OR if he was polite enough to let me pass first before “merging” behind me.

Now let’s put me in the right lane (which I have done only twice, not worth the extra anger).

Light turns green and I slowly (slowly mind you) creep forward and put my blinker on to merge.

This lady starts to speed up so I can’t merge (there was plenty of room before her foot suddenly grew an extra 5lbs).

Well I start to slow down so I can merge behind her (the car behind her was nice enough to slow down so I could get in) and the DUMB LADY SLOWS DOWN WITH ME.

By this time, I am literally seeing red. I have already had to deal with everything I mentioned previously and now she decides to grace me with her STUPIDITY and make my stress level skyrocket. Usually I’m a very delightful person. Not. This. Time.

I speed up (my poor little car whom I call Lothario has to creak and groan to move that much faster so quickly) to get in front of her and I slow wwwaaaaayyyyy down so she’s on my bumper. I roll down my window and let the bird fly.

Then I smile.

Whenever the birdie flies, you know I’ve been pushed to my limit, but once she’s flown, I feel incredibly better.

So, once I let the birdie fly, I drive the one more block to work, pull in and start my day smiling. A little red in the face, but smiling nonetheless.

Now I bet you are wondering, “Why the hell doesn’t she take a different route to work?”

Well let me tell you, this is the LESS STRESSFUL route across town.

If you can believe that….

Maybe we should all put our efforts into finding a way to fly.

That way I can knock people off their broomsticks more efficiently.

It's ok to laugh at it. I do.

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About delightfulness

One sweet, quirky, delightful individual I am.
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One Response to Rage of the Road

  1. sparklebumps says:

    I’m an excellent driver. Only on Saturdays, never on a Monday.

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