(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.