Dear Reckless Driver in the dinged-up Mercury Sable,
I doubt you noticed, but while you were “driving” today, you almost caused at least a dozen accidents, at least in the time I was near you in traffic. Your erratic lane-changes and the way you randomly sped up and slowed down did not make sense to me until I noticed that there was a telephone plastered to your ear by your shoulder. As the intensity in your conversation went up, your foot came down on the gas.
Frankly, I am surprised you hadn’t also put your eye out with the mascara wand you were waving about and occasionally applying to your eye. It seems impossible you were not also applying it to the sandwich you held in your same hand, but you have mad skills. Mad.
What with all the weaving and swerving and makeup and coffee and breakfast and telephone conversation, one would have thought that was more than enough to keep you occupied, but I noticed your book was open and you were sort of reading it at the traffic stops. Also, at the traffic jams.
And it was by no means necessary for you to exit your vehicle that one time the truck honked at you. When you put your cigarette out on the truck driver’s side-mirror you certainly made your point. You also made all of us miss that light and the next one with your shenanigans. Nice robe and slippers, by the way.
In the future, please alert the media when you plan to be driving. Then we can all be somewhere else.
The frazzled lady in the Altima.