Tuesday, July 11, 2006

RRRAaaacccceee OVER

I've been chuckling about this all evening long. The titles alone that have wandered through my brain whilst contemplating this post have kept me amused for hours.

Today after work my brief holiday from kidlets ended. I dropped the guy off in Okotoks to work on a car and went on into the city to pick up the littles. They've been staying with #2 daughter since Thursday evening. She's now rethinking the whole 'it's time for me to have a baby' thought pattern but that's another blog.

As I wander my way past a shitload of backed up traffic held up by not one but two multi car mishaps I count myself lucky that I only have *visit* the city occasionally nowadays, rather than driving there every day or weekend as was my life a few years back.

As I travel I glance in my rear view mirror and see a car approaching at what might e considered an alarming rate of speed. It lurches as it brakes and then edges even closer to my back bumper. Now since I've been rearended a time or two, and have rather less tolerance for stupidity than most I was immediately annoyed. I refused to up my speed as he obviously wanted me to do and held steady at (gasp) the speed limit as posted. A few more intimidation attempts on his part had me getting past annoyed well on my way towards cranky. I touched my brakes enough to warn him off and then when he encroached again I shook my fist in my rear view mirror. I didn't flip him off, just a quick shake of my hand and head. Well you'd think I'd ripped off his shiney silver mirror or something. He swerved and pushed his way into the other lane and paced me, dropping gears and revving for about 1 klik or so and then when we came to a halt at a red, proceeded to tell me off in a voice loud enough to be heard over the ridiculous bass pouring out of the ass end of his shiney, slick silver something or other, but it's got a spoiler car. I spared him a glance and rolled my eyes. Then he did it, he pushed me past the point of cranky. He insulted my car.

Them's fighting words. I really didn't give a shit that he called me a fat old bitch. Hell, somedays I'm even proud of being just that. But when he asked what a fat old bitch like me was doing driving a rustbucket of a sportscar like that I saw red. Well, green actually. I turned to him and snarled "smokin' your scrawny ass" and revved my engine working my gearshift through its paces. The light turned and my sanity returned and I didn't jump. He did however...

You know that bit in the movies where the smart ass young punk gets his after tormenting the hero at the light? Well... silvershiney crumples damn good when it smacks into the ass end of a caddy. And you know, that really big black guy getting out of the caddy...he didn't look all that happy camper. Funny how my little buddy didn't even wave back to me as I drove past, and we were having such a good conversation too.