It was snowing quite heavily this morning and, being that it was the first really substantial snowfall of the season, that logically meant that everybody forgot how to drive.
It happens every year: snow accumulates on the ground, slippery-fying all surfaces, and every motorist, no matter their skill level--from learner's permit to Rusty Wallace--are reduced in drivig ability to something akin to drooling infants.
Well, not me, of course. I'm awesome at all things at all times, because, as stated quite frequently, I'm a smoking hot specimen of male hunkiness. Except for math. I stink at math, which is why I'm a journalist.
Anyway, as much as I do so love to talk about myself, I was originally talking about bad weather leading to bad drivers. And today, my friends, the bad drivers were out in astounding force. Every vehicle I encountered was either in the process of skidding out of control or doing everything in their ability to get to that point.
For my part, I prepared for winter's inevitable arrival by buying new tires, so I am hereby absolved of all guilt when it comes to bad driving, and I don't care what that one lady says about me running a red light last month. She didn't see nothin'! You got me? Nothin'!
Well, anyway, as I made my way to work this morning, I was on heightened alert because overnight everyone, as stated, had forgotten how to drive. People were sliding, and spinning and bumping into things. It was kind of like a dance contest for people in cars.
The thing is, though, that most people refuse to admit when their driving stinks. They could wrap their car around a telephone pole and steadfastly maintain that the pole shouldn't have been there in the first place, or that telephone poles are outdated and should have long ago been replaced by cell phone towers and therefore all telephone poles around the world should no longer be standing and threatening motorists. Of course, then they'd just smash into a cell phone tower while talking on a cell phone, but I wouldn't dare point that out.
So, today, there I was, surrounded by bad drivers who refused to admit they're bad drivers. Of course, subconsciously at least, the motorists do realize they're bad drivers, and by the time that realization makes its way to the conscious mind, it manifests itself in one common gesture. Namely, they give the finger.
This morning, I recieved the finger no less than three times from motorists whom I had the audacity to tootle with my horn. It wasn't as if I was being impatient or anything, either. In all three cases, the motorists were coming at me, with half their vehicle in my lane of traffic. So, understandably, I wanted them to know that, if they didn't correct the situation, a collision was imminent. Strangely, each motorist corrected the dire situation before taking the time to give me the finger.
I'm not particularly offended by the finger. I think it's because giving the finger simply doesn't require enough effort. Now, if giving the finger somehow involved an elaborate hand ritual that took a few seconds to develop, then I'd start to feel offended, because then the finger giver would have gone through some real effort to show their disgust with me. As it is, the finger is just too much like a quick angry wave, so I typically pay it no mind.
Unless I get three fingers from three different people in rather quick succession. Then I start to wonder if maybe I'm somehow overly finger worthy. I start questioning whether I'm as right and correct as I usually think I am. And, worst of all, I wonder if maybe I've lost some of my stature as a smoking hot specimen of male hunkiness.
After some reflection, however, I came to the inescapable conclusion that I was, despite a flurry of fingers, in the right when it came to my nervous horn tootling.
Lousy bad winter drivers. *giving the finger*
Posted by Ryan at December 10, 2003 02:13 PM
Stumble It!
