Day: Sixteen
Steve's cousin, Paul, claims I am a crazy driver. Unfortunately for Paul, the first time he's a passenger in my car, I'm driving in the city. Now city-driving and Long Island-driving are two entirely different things. City-driving consists of jerky movements, no signals, and cussing. Long Island-driving is all about leaning back and steering with three fingers of my left hand. I prefer highway-driving the best actually, but I digress.
I don't usually rage on the road anymore instead I just grip the wheel and move my hands back and forth until I hear the sound of aggravated friction. I'll only honk if another driver is being stoopid and possibly causing a dangerous situation for others. But what I will do is flip a driver off who is going sooooo incredibly slooooow that I can't fathom why they are even driving at all. They might as well get out and walk it because it'll be faster. At this point, the car in the pic has been with me since Jericho Turnpike and I fear I will not make my 9 o'clock playoff game so I flip the bird in anger. I know he can't see me but it's satisfying nonetheless.
1 comment:
I was just saying today that you are so behind on this blog. Have I now aggravated you? Good. And I wear shower caps.
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