Driving Me Up a Wall at 35 M.P.H

I just saw on aol... you know like the New York Times is "All the news that's fit to print". Aol is more like: "All the news that may not exactly be news & isn't usually proofread for typographical errors." Anyway, I was reading this morning about this woman in North Carolina who reported that she was terrorized by another woman with road rage. My first thought: was "Oh, my gosh. That's horrible. I live in North Carolina. I wonder if it was me." While other readers were likely hanging onto each detail to see the condition of the victim, I was quickly scanning the article to see if the perpetrator had been identified and checking my cell phone to see if there were any missed calls. On the one side, I understood the criminal's point of view. Some people here drive veeery slowly. The speed limit might be 45 and the person in front is doing 38, seemingly oblivious to the twelve cars stuck behind him. And now, they don't just drive slowly, they're too busy to drive too: Texting, talking on the phone, eating, doing their make-up, doing their girlfriend, tweezing their eyebrows, snorting cocaine...

The victim in this case called 911 (excellent idea) and videotaped the whole incident...with her window partly open. All okay while the nut is just severely tailgating you and yelling at you in American Sign Language with only one finger.  But the second she pulled in front, stopped and got out of her car... Honey, roll up your window, put down the camera, and drive around that crazy fk.

So I've been upset with crappy drivers... but I've never gotten out of a car. I've never confronted anyone.  I've never done profane hand gestures to anyone. (The lie detector determined: THAT was a lie.) Okay, I've done the last one but not recently. It's stupid and unnecessary and a lot of people here carry guns. It would be humiliating to have to explain for the rest of  my life why I only have four fingers on my left hand. This is how I know that the Universe is working to protect me. I drive an old car with windows that haven't opened in years. This is part of the great cosmic plan to keep me from getting shot in response to hurling an occasional stray middle finger out at slow drivers in front of me and big trucks behind me that drive up my ass in bad weather.

Years ago when I still lived in New York, I was driving one night on a dark street on Long Island. When I stopped at a red light, two guys who were fighting with knives chased each other off an exit ramp and continued their battle on the hood of my car. I hit the gas, they flew off like leaves, one to the right and one to the left, and I went on with my evening.