This asshole yesterday is driving like he's in a race. I can't let him do that because otherwise he'll think he's the king of the fucking road. The least, the very fucking least, you can do is fucking put your goddamn turn signal on so that I'm ready to cut him off as soon as he takes your spot. I'm not going to hit you, I swear. Him? Fuck him, I'm ready for war, I don't give a shit if I hit him. But we'll never know if I could beat him and show him who's boss since you didn't let me know where you were going to go, now, did you? Traffic fuck-ups that are started by the too-quick are finished by the too-slow. Fuck you.
And you, truck driver I had the unfortunate luck of driving up the ass of today, you! If I only hadn't pointed my car in the wrong direction I wouldn't have run into your ass. I will admit that, it's my fault. But by trying to correct my path I see you, in your fucking semi, waiting on a side street next to the elementary school to make a right turn. Once you decide to hit the acclerator I hit the brake, because your fat ass needs all the space in the world to make a turn. I was hoping you were going to stay in the left lane, but I know I had to stay motionless because of the worst thing that could happen, the worst that did happen, which was you jerking your wide right turn back across the left lane and onto the right lane, aka the lane I was on. So not only did I waste time driving the wrong way, I am now waiting behind a slow-to-brake, slow-to-speed up semi -- and at a red light to boot. I hit my steering wheel in frustration so hard I needed to test it to make sure I didn't break the horn. I didn't -- and I sort-of inadvertently sent a message of frustration your way. So I have to at least thank you for moving out of my way, then falling in behind me so I could pass you. So not fuck you. Now please don't hunt me down. And please don't get in my way again. Thank you.
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