Dear Jerk in the Red Pickup,
I admit it. I’m unsettled. Not so much by the fact that you tailgated us for over five miles, but that you did so ranting and huddling up in the corner of the cab with your fist over your forehead, hunching and swaying. If you really wanted around us there were two open lanes to your right. Since you didn’t pass us, I can only assume that on some level you enjoyed being oppressed by our driving the speed limit.
I think it’s time for new meds. Seriously.
By the way, I had my cellphone out to take pictures if you followed us to our destination, intending to spash them all over flickr to be used as evidence against you, if necessary. So I’m glad you didn’t go there, for both our sakes.
No Love,
Me
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