It's not often that my Mother gets riled up. She's usually very calm, especially when those around her are riled up. It's a trait that friends and family say I've inherited from her. It's a good thing. It's a characteristic that helps me tremendously at work. But this morning, we were both riled up. At the same time. And it wasn't pretty.
We were on our way back home from a quick trip across town to check on a vacationing friend's house and to get their mail and newspaper, when the Road Rage Incident occurred. I was in the middle late on the expressway, and to my right was a big ole F-150. It makes perfect sense in retrospect; it had a bunch of NASCAR stickers on the back window and tailgate, and had a NASCAR license plate frame. Anyhoo, this big truck just comes on over to my lane. No use of turn signals or anything. Luckily for us, I was able to swerve over in the far left lane to avoid getting smashed by this idiot. As soon as we were safely in the other lane, I laid on the horn. I glanced over and my Mother was riled. There were no obscene gestures made toward the lunatic driver, but there were a few choice names dropped. The truck sped up and pulled up alongside of us, and the driver, a woman in her mid-20's talking on a cell phone (hard to comprehend, I know) rolled the window down and shrugged her shoulders and yelled "Sorry." Uh huh. Sorry my ass.
We watched the F-150 cut in front of a dozen other cars going down the expressway. I kept my distance from the crazed driver, but from what we could tell, she didn't roll her window down and tell any of the other drivers she pissed off "Sorry." We watched, and she took the same exit as us - onto Dixie Highway. She might have gotten by with cutting in front of people on the expressway, but if she pulls that stunt on Dixie, she might get to see what road rage retaliation from a south-ender feels like.
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