Madman Behind the Wheel...

"Gotta monkey on my tailpipe ridin' my tail

I can see his smug pug chug face

He seems to like it bumper to bumper...

He thinks I'm pole position in a NASCAR Race..." (Race to the Redlight: song written by D.E.G) 

 NASCAR:  Now, before you get all snippy with me, let me say that I love NASCAR as much as the next all-American Redneck, beer drinkin' Packers fan. BUT... I'm blaming it on them. The Drivers. NASCAR.

It's just because they must all watch NASCAR. Cars speeding around the track all in one long line of cars bumper to bumper.

I'm talking about that infernal way that most drivers out there sit on your tail in some sort of effort to move you along a little faster on the highway. It is just one more little stressor in a world of teeth-grinding stressors. Okay, chum... the speed limit here along Country Highway D-eer is 55, but because I'm in a hurry too...I'm pushing 59. And you're still on my bumper! Why?

Okay... so, you're arrival time is incredibility more important than either one of our lives, so I'm going to slow up and allow you to pass me.

Go ahead...........Really. Please. Go on.... 

Honest. I won't think of it as a put down (Unless, of course you drive a new BMW or a Hummer... pretentious bastards!).

Here comes a nice long stretch of passing zone for your comfort and joy.

Really! Go ahead! Well, for cryin' out loud... okay, I'll slow up a little more. There ya go. Have at it!

REALLY. PLEASE!!!!

Then it dawns on me that the jerk behind me has no intention of passing or slowing up or doing anything remotely human...and like the monkey he is (or as most often the case....she), just wants to collect the breezes off the bumper of my car.

Hasn't anyone ever seen those movies in Driving class? The one that shows exactly how long it takes to stop a moving vehicle driving at highway speeds? You weren't asleep during those horrific movies, were you? On idyllic road conditions (not like the ones here on County Highway Deer)...it takes about 450feet or longer than a football field to stop your 2 ton ballistic automobile made of metal and plastic. Not even long enough for a prayer or barely enough to get out a good....."OH....SH*T!!!"

Now, does that make you back off a little? Eh? no?? NO?

I guess the prevailing thought here is, that by extreme tailgating ....the car in front will be "guilt-ed" or goaded into driving faster therefore negating the use of the pass. Monkey woman (or man)... you have no idea how bull stubborn and hard nosed I can be. I will NOT go faster for your convenience!

In fact, I plan on slowing down to a infuriating 52 MPH, just for your IN-convenience! Take That, you ol' muffler snuffer you!!!!

It has now turned into a full-blown war of monkey drivers.

Eventually, the road rage war is quickly put out by the driver either turning off the highway or they finally give up the ghost by passing (Paper, Scissors, Rock....sorry, Mr. Rock always wins in that scenario) ...usually at hyperbolic speeds whilst hoisting the universal sign of disrespect out their window. Alas, the final thought I have is: "Hope I see you in the ditch someplace...or I hope a cop with his radar is sitting right on the other side of that hill."

I don't really mean it, of course. Not really. Okay....now, all relax. Breathe out. Yesssssssss. Okay... all is ZEN again.....

Until the next monkey driver suddenly appears larger than life in my rearview mirror. You can just see it in his face, "Oh, Cripes not ANOTHER slow driver!!!"

Finis:

PS. I've happen to notice this behavior is also on display at your local Walmart and grocery stores as you are standing in line. This further exemplifies NASCAR behavior.

As the large family with their 8 screeching kids are now standing 1.5 centimeters away from me while I'm opening my checkbook, waiting in the checkout. The husband forgot to wear deodorant today, but his wife makes up for it with just a whiff...cough... of Summer's Eve. And Oh.... Isn't that nice? Their precious little 10 year old just sneezed on my groceries... 

In the immortal words of  Buggs Bunny: "Stop steaming up my tail!!"

In the immortal words of Yosemite Sam on mud-flaps all across America: "Back off!"

In the immortal words of nearly every detective in any murder mystery: "Okay. Everybody get back. Give him some breathing room! Cmon...back up."

Finally, in the immortal words of John Lennon and Paul McCartney: "Get back!"