With the holiday season here, many of us will be hitting the road in the coming weeks, traveling to places near and far. The scenery may be different for each of us, but we all will be united in one common emotion:
My triggers for road rage are not the common ones. Tailgaters have no power over me. I easily shake away the jolt of being cut off by an aggressive car. Even slow drivers in the passing lane only warrant a minor stink-eye from me.
But, friends, I am not immune to road rage. Not by a long shot. In fact, here are the top three things that will really get my goat as we travel to south Georgia to see my in-laws this year:
I understand this may insensitive, and I know you may be in deep pain, but I, on the other hand, am just trying to make my way to a house full of cakes, pies, and other specialties reserved for southern sons returning to their mothers for the holidays. I’m busy getting my groove on in my Dodge Stratus, jamming to the Black Eyed Peas, and having a grand day. I don’t need a buzz kill because Jeremiah died on 03-14-98. It just isn’t right. Unless, of course, Jeremiah actually died in that car. But if that is the case, why are you still driving it? This is as tacky, in my books, as a funeral flower arrangement with a plastic telephone attached that says, “God called, and Trudy answered.”
Calvin Peeing on Anything
Come on people, have some class! Sure there are folks I really do not like. There are people in this world who I wouldn’t mind if Calvin, or anyone else for that matter, actually peed on for real. There are teams and towns and brands I don’t care for at all. But, am I going to advertise to the universe that I think the best treatment for Sarah Palin and the Duke Blue Devils is for a comic strip character to relieve himself on their head? No! I will not do it! Although the more I think about it, a valid argument probably could be made for the Duke Blue Devils.
By far, the most disgusting, vile, horrific car “accessory” are metallic male testicles hanging from a car’s back hitch. Really? I mean really? Have you seen these? Why, oh why, is this necessary? I can’t explain it, but it troubles me even more when the person driving the testicularized vehicle is a woman. I mean, if someone is going to ride around in a car with an actual set of descended male testicles, why am I looking at said driver at all? I should be braking my car to put distance between myself and it. What message is this sending? Do these people have children or nephews or nieces? How do they answer them when asked what are those shiny globes hanging under the back of the car? It just flat-out gives me the heebie-jeebies.
So, there you have it. You know my road rage triggers. If we happen to meet on the interstate this holiday season, please honk and wave. Feel free to cut me off or ride my tail, just keep your resting-in-peace-Calvin-peeing-big-balls to yourself.