Tis the season for drunk-en driv-ing.

I’m definitely looking forward to the forthcoming end to the Holiday season. Everyone seems to have their own reason to hate the holidays. My reason? It nearly scares me out of driving. Now folks, I’ve loved driving since my first moment where I depressed the pedal on my father’s ’92 Plymouth Acclaim. Every year around this time though, nothing makes me wish more that I had a huge fucking garage to lock my car in while I drove around in an battle-tank.

This past Monday I stopped at a mall down in Jersey, on my way out the Holiday spirit engulfed me in the form of a total jackass who shot out in front of me, taking over both lanes and leaving me with no choice but to swerve around him in the oncoming lanes.

Now evasive driving is always exciting, evasive driving on snow-tires, oh boy it’s better than sex. Just kidding. I cut the wheel one way and the rear of the car swung loose, cut it the other, loose… I regained control of the car, the idiot behind me came to a stop – finally realizing how much of a MORON he was.

The on the on-ramp to I-80, this twit in a Jetta tries to squeeze me out of a merge. Course, her lane was ending, not mine. Then on 15 I’m stuck behind a tractor trailer. I get past him only to end up behind a Ford Escort who insisted on doing 30mph. I get past them only to end up behind a drunk in a Wrangler to speeds up in passing zones and brake-checks every time oncoming traffic passes. Joy.

Tying up some last minute shopping on Tuesday, I leave the store to see some 85 year old fucker who shouldn’t be behind the wheel, backing into the front bumper of my pride and joy.

12 attempts later he finally parks and apologizes. Road tests. Give these people road tests, eye tests, and reflex tests. If they can’t prove they’re capable of driving better than a 17 year old they can learn to take the bus.

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