Road Rage

There was a little incident on our way to drop Cameron off this morning.

We were headed down the road and it was time to get in the turn lane. The dude behind me was in some kind of hurry to hang out at a red light and had already cut over. I guess my turn signal confused him. But whatever.

Strike one.

I waited and then changed lanes after his royal highness was safely in his lane. My turn signal still on. Then I waited behind him at the red light. He in his muscle car, revving his engine (I was SO impressed) and me in my minivan. The light turned green and he spun his tires taking off. And his car kind of did that thing that young guys think is cool. It shifted or something. I don't know. What's the name for that? Drifting? Sliding?  Spinning? I'm clueless.

Strike two.

So he's in front of me and I'm pretty sure he could tell I was irritated. He switches lanes to get behind a big concrete truck. It confused me at first because I thought he was in some kind of hurry. Then when I passed by him, he darted back into my lane, revved his engine again and got right up on my bumper.

Strike three.

I did what you aren't supposed to do. With my kids in the car. I slammed on the brakes. School bags flew out of seats. And I grinned as I watched that a-hole practically put his cute little ride on it's nose while braking.

He went flying around me after that. I shouted out, "That's right, Soccer Mom don't play!"

He had North Carolina plates and a short haircut. Most likely military. I wish I'd gotten his plate number. I'd call the base here in town and turn him in.

Don't let my minivan confuse you. Ever. You may think I'm a dork. But I know how to drive. I've been doing it for thirty + years.

What a tool.