A few months ago my husband and I were driving to our local bookstore when we spotted a troublesome sight. A grayish mid 90s Toyota with driver issues, in our lane. Well more like everyone’s lane. I wondered, could it be a momentary disagreement with the steering wheel? Hot cocoa on the groin? Maybe a chinchilla had scampered up the leg of his trousers? What could be the cause of such earnest zigzag? Because it did appear that his zigzags where the type one might but effort into, not those more one time casual try not to hit the kid on the sidewalk affairs.
Upon closer inspection, we discovered the cause of his disorderly driving. He was on his cellular phone. However he did seem troll-ish, I would question his driving even without the phone. It wasn’t his prematurely balding head, or crusty tie, but the lack of concern he showed for the rest of us, who where trying to share the road with him, that really pissed me off. He knew, but the ugly little man he was he wear his dismissal along with big gulp stains on his sleeve. My husband, with his usual cautionary attitude would not drive up along side of him so that I, with the help of my middle finger and impressive vocabulary could express my displeasure at his poor driving skills.
Usually, I couldn’t give a fuck. We all need to monitor ourselves and I’ve seen people drive and multi task with success. Same as I have seen others fail even when giving their surroundings full attention.
I wasn’t done yet, so we followed this vehicularly challenged individual. He stopped at an Asian take out palace. We parked around the corner. On the torn inside of an RX bag I wrote a note expressing my concern and disapproval. He had endanger not only us but all others in the vicinity and really was it worth it? I also made a mild critic about his character. Of course I don’t believe I used any words with more then 5 letters. It was… colorful….
Then, with ninja like skill my husband took the note and placed it causally on the drivers seat of said individual’s car. His window was rolled down or more like, judging by the condition of the car, maybe didn’t have an “Up” option. This perhaps is also an estimation of the type of monotonous life the driver lives. His was grubby and unpleasant - not in a love of life dirty hippy or angry with bitter punk rock over tones … just icky. Like a troll. Without purpose.
The moral of the story …? I feel like playing around with adjectives today and don’t drive like a retarded goblin bastard with goat breath and a crusty tie, because next time you might get more then a note from me.
