I’m talking to you, Windstar woman…

Jerkmobile

This morning, on my way to work, at the intersection of Woodlawn Avenue and Kentmere Parkway, I was the guy you cut off when you ran the “Yield” sign. I was the guy with whom you made eye contact before you gunned your 3.8 liter V-6 engine and zoomed in front of me. I was the guy who, if I’d been looking in a different direction, changing the radio, or simply slow on the uptake, would have crashed into your rear left-side, where you had a child seated. Is it not odd to you that a total stranger was exhibiting more concern for that child than you were at that moment? So I will keep my eye out for a bronze Windstar with a Tampa dealer mark on the back, Delaware tags with some arrangement of these digits 17789 (I know what they are, but it seems a little much to put your actual tag on the net), and I will give you a wide berth. I have no fondness for self-centered, arrogant drivers who blithely assume others will brake for them, but I really cannot abide people who drive like that with kids in the car. You have a responsibility to protect them, and to drive in a manner that will serve as a model to them. Right now you’re just working on raising another arrogant jerk.

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