(this is a tad long, but hang with me)
There’s a philosophy that says if you put something out there, positive or negative—an emotion/effort/comment/thought—it’ll come back to you soon after.
Yesterday morning I busted some of the meatheads in our human herd who were stopped on a bridge after a little fender bender, blocking traffic and creating a dangerous situation for the rest of their fellow drivers.
The payback didn’t take long….three people flipped me off on the highway within a couple of hours.
The first one was at a red light and evidently I didn’t start moving the instant it turned green.
The second was at another stoplight. I looked both ways, saw it was clear, and turned right on red. I didn’t realize some guy in a pickup was doing 119 miles an hour and coming up on my left. He whizzed around me, flipped me off and continued to stare at me through his rear window for at least 50 yards.
The third member of The Exalted Order of The Flipper was my favorite.
I’m on four-lane US 1 and traffic is kinda creeping along. I hear a horn blowing behind me and to my left. I look in my rear view and side view mirrors and I see a beat-up, old Lincoln with the left turn signal flickering with that, “I’ve been blinkin’ for miles and I’m tired” look.
We come up on a stoplight (what is it with the stoplights?!!) and as the car rolls up beside me he honks again. I look over and the windows are down and there’s male driver and female passenger. They both look rough, about sixty or so, and both dress out at around 300 pounds.
I roll down my window (I know, I know) and ask, “Hey, what’s the deal with the horn?” He points at the driver ahead and blathers something I don’t hear.
To which, I answer….
Let me stop right here and say that, yes, I realized that I was going to say something smartass and that I shouldn’t...but, I couldn’t stop myself. Besides, I thought my comment might be helpful.
I said, “Well, Scooter, you’re the one riding forever with your left turn signal bangin’ away.”
Just then the light changed, Thank God. Mr. and Mrs. Shrek screamed something unintelligible at me and digitally told me I was Number 1.
That’s it. I’m not helping anyone anymore.