Why Limit Yourself?

Why Limit Yourself?

WTF happened to the speed limit? No, seriously. I wasn’t going to post this, but EVERY SINGLE FREAKIN’ time I get on the highway, the scenario below happens. And I am NOT exaggerating here.

Am I the only one who thinks people are driving like serious assholes this summer? Seriously, I am no one to talk about bad driving habits, but maybe it’s the relentless heat plaguing this summer that is frying the precious few braincells of drivers.  

I get on the highway, set my cruise control, and go. I generally set my cruise control for a good 5 over the speed limit – I told you I’m not a perfect driver. Now cue the idiocy. I pass someone, who proceeds to speed up (doing WELL over the speed limit), then slow down. With the same cruise control, I pass them again, then they speed up and slow down again. Cue my middle finger. I pass them again, still on cruise control, and then they speed up again. Annoying to read? Imagine being behind the wheel for this asinine game at highway speeds.

By the third time I’ve passed them, it’s a double middle finger. Except I make sure it’s under the dash. I’m not a public road-rager. Yet.

You know that awkward moment when you pass someone, and for whatever reason, there is an energy that forces you to look at each other? I start making faces, similar to Mr. Squirrel below each time. Go figure. And you know what, I’m trying to be kind here, because I was once 20-something, but it’s always some little 20-something twatwaffle who’s playing touch and go at highway speeds. I was once 20-something, but I know I didn’t play Jackass-style games on the highway. I know that for a fact.

angry

(pissed of squirrel attribution)

After the third time I’ve passed this priceless piece of driving dung, the actual words, “Fuck this shit,” come out of my filthy mouth, and I look something similar to this:  

vicious

(vicious squirrel attribution)

And because they are 20-something and just don’t know the beauty of it, I become like Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes, muttering something like “Twanda” under my breath. 

And, as I pass that 20-something asshat for good at some ungodly speed, I make that final magnetic look with a stone face, and mouth, “I have better insurance, bitch.”

And then there is the utter opposite, donated by one of my college roommates in a FB post:

“Dear Prius Owners,

I try not to generalize, but after years of personal experiences, it’s you. It’s always you. Always. You: going under the speed limit, not moving at speed in the left lane, and poking along with a long line of cars behind you. I get it. You are a hyper-miler, or really care about the environment, or whatever. However, YOU ARE A DANGER TO OTHERS ON THE ROAD WHEN YOU GO BELOW THE SPEED LIMIT AND KEEP TRAFFIC PACED BELOW OTHER LANES.

Stop it. Just stop. Quit it. It’s passive-aggressive and dicky.”

Drive like normal, people. Or drive like normal people. However you want that comma to work for you. Pleeeeeeaaaasssseeee.

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