A Guide for the Terminally Craptastic Driver

You are just minding your business, driving along on a Friday afternoon, preparing your fingers to tap out the epic drum break in Phil Collins’ “In The Air Tonight,” when you are met with the unholiest of terrors.

No, not  seeing your grandmother twerking like Miley Cyrus on a giant foam finger.

No, more like the craptastic driver.  A driver so bad, you literally have to invent new terms to describe just how bad they are.  Even then, the English language fails so much to describe it accurately, you have to learn something like Namibian to find an ancient term they don’t even use anymore to come close enough to describe that driver’s level of suck.

I live in the Chicagoland area, which if you have never been there, means you probably think I live between a dairy farm and a deep dish pizza place owned by a rabid Chicago Bears football fan named Tony.  Which you would be wrong.

He is more of a hockey guy.

But let us come back to the real reason we are here today, which is to talk about terrible drivers.  Because I highly doubt you are here for the jokes.

I think that these drivers are simply misunderstood people.  Their idiotic driving comes not from the fact they were dropped on their heads as children, but rather they are just very busy people that are too inconvenienced by your safe, reasoned, proper driving.  They don’t want to spend their lives driving in cars going back and forth.  They have things to do, places to go, people to twerk on.

Yet, I think these drivers know they will have to start explaining their behavior to those who do not understand their jerkiness.  As a symbol of my commitment towards service, may I present all of those terminally brain-dead people with a handy note that can be easily filled in to provide the cut-off, the tailgated, and the thoroughly peeved, a reasonable explanation.

They can thank me later.  Preferably, while standing away from their vehicles.

Dear (Sir/Ma’m/Blurry speck now smeared on my front window),

I regret my (cutting you off/madly honking for you to move your car .00000002 seconds after the light turned green/tailgating so close to your rear end that my car should have offered yours a cigarette afterwards).  I was (running late for a meeting/updating my Foursquare account to become mayor of this piece of road/ trying to hit 88 miles an hour a la Back to the Future).  I couldn’t see your car while I was driving my (SUV/Humvee/Cruise Missile).  I truly regret making you almost (run off the road/ do a 360 degree turn so tight it would make a figure skater jealous/ whisk away to the Emerald City by the sheer tornado-like force of the wind whipped up from me going past your vehicle).  Let me please (apologize/laugh at your pathetically slow driving/try again).

Sincerely,

A (concerned citizen/brain dead zombie/Fox News political commentator)

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