sisalik | the lord is risen and you're a prick

Yesterday some redneck backbirth thought it'd be fun to start tailgating me. I thought it'd be fun to s-l-o-w myself the hell down, because, ay, pobrecito, big strong man in a big red truck, he has somewhere important to be and he's stuck behind a stupid woman driver who doesn't know where she is. Nobody behind him; nobody in front of me; nobody coming the other direction. He could have passed and chose not to, therefore he had to put up with me. When people act nasty and tailgate me, I will drive at 20 miles an hour, take the entire span of a light change to make a right turn (and not make it on the red either), let my left foot ride on the brake pedal so the brake light stays on, and do everything I can think of to tell them, STOP DOING THAT.

It stopped being fun, or funny, five turns later when the freak was still following me, nothing but his grill in my rear-view mirror, flashing his brights and weaving between our lane and the opposing one. I called the police on my cell phone, and he must have seen it or something, because right when I was telling the cops where I was, he suddenly veered off onto a side street.

I needed that. I'm not spooked nearly enough by driving already, you know?

And it's really a shame Florida doesn't require front and back license plates, because I had no way to ID the guy.