Today’s Tuesday, so you’d assume it’d start just as normally as others. You struggle with your alarm clock, fighting the incessant beeping to gain a few more minutes of precious sleep. Next, you roll yourself outta bed and straight to the bathroom for an eyeopening shower and get ridda that horrific morning breath (yours, not mine). You slowly get dressed, hop in your car and begrudgingly head to your 9-5, if you’re lucky enough to have one. All things seem like they’re going right – you’re cooling out, keeping your eyes up, music blasting and then it happens…Johnny Dangerously’s paying little to no attention behind the wheel of his car or truck and decides he’s single-handedly gonna throw you into a a blind rage before your first much needed sip of coffee, by causing damage to your lifeline – your own personal pride and joy, a monthly payment on four tires, the extension of your personality.
Intersections aren’t the most dangerous part of the driving experience – dickhead drivers are. As I’m coasting by the line of traffic making left hand turns -I’m minding my own business with music knocking thru my speakers to keep my ass awake – the aforementioned soul crusher decides he wants to blindly merge into my lane, obstructing my progress…but then he keeps going. In an attempt to not blast him, I swerve my one-ton babygirl…right into the newly constructed, foot high curb. Now is the time for face fighting, threats, and impending physical altercations, unless dude/ma’am is slick and evades the situation. So after getting out to inspect the damage and finish up making threats against this dude’s life, I notice that the curb devoured the shine on my rims, scuffed the tire up, and my undercarriage was the new resting place for a traffic cone. On top of all that – spilled piping hot coffee on my leather seats. Day immediately drops from a 6 to a 3 on the “This day’s cool” scale.
Allow me to present this to you in an entirely different view: The road is much like a club or bar. They’re both packed with people of varying social classes, tax brackets, all with varying styles. The luxury cars are usually in VIP, although they sometimes end up mingling with the masses. The obnoxiously large trucks with the loud exhausts and decals everywhere – yup, those are the TapOut/Ed Hardy/Affliction wearing dudes who hafta make a bizarre spectacle of themselves and get laughed at and hardly ever taken seriously. Now, causing an actual accident is tantamount to pushing someone in a bar – some people notice it right away and watch the destruction. Others can’t help but get themselves entangled in the action themselves and get lumped up. But this ordeal, blindly pushing an unsuspecting person into the curb…that’s the exact same thing as bumping me in the club and spilling a drink on my Rugby shirt or God forbid, my sneakers. Some things can be overlooked if amends are made. You spill my drink? Apologize, I’ll let it go. Hit my car/force me to swerve? Gimme your insurance info. Take off without repercussions? I’ll be waiting outside for you to leave.