This is a message to the little oriental dude in the Acura TL who so kindly got in front of me on the highway this morning: I’m coming for you. When I’m coming up in the fast lane doing about 75mph, and you decide that the police speedtrap access lane is your personal U-turn area, and pull out 500 feet in front of me with your hazards on, you’re gonna piss me off. When you put your hazards on and then take 2 minutes to get up to 55mph and then finally pull over into the middle lane while I lean my hand onto the horn button 5 feet off your bumper, you’re gonna make me mad. When I lay about 20 feet of rubber and narrowly avoid having the lady behind me open my trunk with the hood of her Cherokee, I’m going to yell at you. And when I pull alongside you, slow to your speed, and commence to tell you how stupid you are at the top of my voice, look at me, little man. Next time you do that, I hope I’m behind you in the Scout, dumbass. I’m going to leave my foot off the brake and jam an LT235/75R15 Dunlop Radial Rover right up your skinny little butt.

Normally, I keep my road rage to a dull roar in the back of my head. But I’ve seen two accidents (seen one firsthand yesterday evening and saw the aftermath of one this morning) in the last 24 hours, and I think some stars or planets are aligning and pointing at my bumper.

I found this site today and read through it; Then I laughed my butt off. Right on, man.