Did you miss me? Awwwwww, I missed you too! A little…maybe. The absence is due to my enrollment in school. Yay me! Unfortunately, the only things I’ve been writing about recently have involved ‘how psychological evaluations relate to bariatric surgery’ and other similarly uninteresting topics. Today, though, I had a run-in that was just too comical not to document. 

Have you ever had one of those days when you are on the road and EVERYONE is driving 10mph under the speed limit? It’s highly irritating, but rather than tailgate, you resign yourself to the fact that it’s just going to take a slightly longer than planned to reach your destination. There’s really no point in getting pissy so you turn up the radio, and sing along while Grandpa Jones putters along ahead of you in his big, black Cadillac.

Today was one of those days.

So as I sang along with The Band Perry while following a safe 3-car-length distance away from Grandpa through a construction zone, imagine my shock and horror when I looked in my rear view mirror to see a gray Ford Ranger closing in fast…with no sign of slowing down. Oncoming traffic was far too close for him to pass.

*insert selected curse word here*

I glance to the right. Orange and white barrels line the side of the road. He’ll slow down, right??


As he speeds towards my rear bumper, he swerves into the path of oncoming traffic. I’m not certain, but I bet the chick driving the van peed her pants a little. At the last second, he swerves his truck between me and Grandpa Jones narrowly avoiding becoming a hood ornament for a Caravan. However, said maneuver requires me to slam on the brakes and swerve towards the construction barrels to avoid having the front of my car torn off.

Angry? uhm… YES.

Thankfully, due to my mad skill, I didn’t collide with anything on my way from road to dirt. And I owe Grandpa, because had I been going faster, I probably would have lost control and reeked havoc on my car and myself.

As I crested a hill a mile or so later, I happened to see the gray Ranger turn off onto a side road, and pull into a driveway. Jackpot!

He stayed in the truck as I approached the driveway, and as I neared I could hear the music blaring. Guess he’s letting his song finish. Lucky me. At least now I don’t have to go bang on the front door. 

It was pretty obvious when I rolled up beside him, that I’d startled him. As I motioned for him to roll the window down, I got my first glimpse of my newest inductee into Idiot’s R Us. Couldn’t be older than 17, hat sitting half-cocked on his head. Even his appearance was annoying.

Him: ‘sup

Me: are you on fire?

Him: Wha…….


Him: nah, man…what are you talkin ab….

Me: If you aren’t on fire, then why the heck did you run me off the road back there?

Him: Wha…..I dunno what you’re….

Me: *motioned back toward the highway* What’s the name of that road??

Him: Look lady…


Him: Hwy 30

Me: Is your name highway or thirty?

Him: *eyes looking slightly frightened and confused* No??

Me: Then I guess that means you don’t own the road! Do you?!?!

Him: Uhm. No, Ma’am.

Me: I didn’t think so! So stop driving like a freaking idiot unless you want to end up killing someone and spending time in jail with some dude named Cletus who wants to make you his girlfriend!

Him: Yes, Ma’am.

I bet next time he won’t sit in the driveway to finish his favorite song.