Corolla

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
People sometimes.

Submitted: March 20, 2014

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Submitted: March 20, 2014

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An open letter to the guy in the Corolla on 260 intent on ruining the start of my day:

Dear Mr. Slow Swervy Swerve,
Hi there. How's it going? Lovely I hope. Here's the thing guy. I woke up this morning feeling energetic and fairly positive about my day. I mean I may have been running late to work on the one hand but on the other hand that means that I got to sleep in a little bit longer and when you wake up 5 days a week at 4:30 AM every extra minute counts. Either way I was feeling pretty good from the moment my heart rate slowed down from the initial shock my alarm clock going off always brings to the moment I got behind your car on 260. It wasn't just the fact that you fluctuating between 35 to 40 mph and that you were swerving the whole time you did it. No, what really got to me was that when I decided "Hey. This is pretty unacceptable. You need to get to work as soon as possible because you're already gonna be late as it is." and I got into the left lane to pass you so I could get back over to the right lane which is where I needed to be, you decided fuck that noise and started speeding up to prevent me from getting in front of you. I pulled a Vin Diesel and got in front of you anyway because I'm awesome. Most people would have let it drop there and reflected on their driving abilities. Not you. You decided to teach me a lesson which apparently consisted of pulling right up to the ass of my car, turning your high beams on so you could follow me, and then honking your horn. I get it. Your plan was to freak me out so I'd pull over to the shoulder which would allow you to get back to your rightful place of being in front of a Nissan Sentra at 5 in the morning. In a tiny way I respect your tenacity. Of course in a much bigger way I hate your tenacity and I hope you get attacked by a very large and angry group of bears. If your plan was indeed to get me to pull off onto the shoulder...you failed. Like horribly. All you succeeded in doing was pissing me off. Work could wait just a little bit longer. I slowed down to about 25 mph and blasted Queen out of my car windows. I don't know if you could even hear it but it doesn't matter because listening to "Don't Stop Me Now" made me feel better about the situation. This upset you. I don't really get why because I thought this whole thing was a result of your anger towards other drivers who aren't cool with going with the flow and taking it easy by driving under the speed limit. You honked your horn. I flipped you off. I'm pretty sure that's the exact opposite of what they teach you to do in a hostile driving situation in driving school but they didn't put it in a catchy song like "Stay out of the No Zone" and as far as I'm concerned if there isn't a racially diverse group of teenagers working for the DMV singing about it then it's probably not that important. But yeah...you didn't respond well to the middle finger. You tried to pass me. I said no...like the word no actually came out of my mouth even though I was alone in my car. Vin Diesel move again, you're not getting in front of me. So you honked a few more times. I sped up to about 45 mph. You got excited and sped up with me. I slowed back down to 30. At this point you had to be fucking infuriated but I didn't care because obviously I hate you now with all my heart. All I wanted was to get to work on time and continue being happy. You had to be a dick about everything like you own the road and that means people need to adhere to your rules. Well fuck that. I started a revolution. A slightly petty and ultimately pointless revolution but I didn't care. It was early and I was mad. So were you. By the time we got to Dash-In you were honking like crazy. Which I don't know if you've heard of that urban legend where a girl is driving home one night and a truck gets behind her with his high beams on and begins honking at her car and riding her ass. He does that all the way to her home. She gets freaked out and calls the cops. When they show up at the house to arrest this guy he says "Wait a minute, look in her backseat." They do and they find an escaped convict...or was it an escaped mental patient...doesn't matter, in her back seat with a knife. The truck driver explained that he saw the guy creeping up on her from the backseat and when he turned on his high beams and honked his horn the prisoner and/or mental patient ducked back down. He had followed her all the way home to make sure she was safe. So the whole time this chick thought the guy behind her was an asshole and crazy but really he was trying to save her life. Wild right? So I couldn't help but look in my backseat just on the off chance you weren't a dick, you were just trying to save my life, and this whole thing was a misunderstanding of some kind. There was no one in my backseat though. So you were just a dick. Which made me angrier. So suddenly I picked up speed and got in the right lane at the light before Brickhouse Rd and passed three other cars to make it in front of the pack. Leaving you stuck back there with no one to honk at...well you had people to honk at but it wouldn't have made sense. So yeah. Take that. I count that as a victory. Don't get me wrong Mr. Corolla, I know I shouldn't count it as a victory because at the end of the day ultimately it doesn't matter...like at all and I should've just let you pass me and acted like the bigger man. But you really really really got to me. I'm super susceptible to grumpiness at that time of day and you really were being just a phenomenal asshole. So I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry for acting like a child...but fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid Corolla.

Sincerely, David.

P.s. - I hope an escaped convict finds his way into the backseat of your shitty car.


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