Dear Dickhead in the Chevy Trailblazer

Dear Dickhead in the Chevy Trailblazer,

First of all, you’re not fooling anyone. It’s not like you’re bagging cheetahs on the weekend. You’re picking up Kaili from soccer practice and dropping off Dylan at his piano lesson. And that “26.2” sticker on the hatchback isn’t as humble or inside a message as you probably think it is. We all know your secret language now. Besides, it’s just a sticker. I can buy stickers too.

Secondly, I know what you did back there. If you’re gonna pud along in the fast lane with your cruise control stuck on “grandma,” at least have the dignity to admit you’re a moron that can’t drive and let me pass you on the right. Getting into the right lane and speeding up just enough so I can’t pass you has upgraded you from moron to dickhead. Congratulations. Kaili and Dylan will be proud. And I realize that you’d have plausible deniability in a court of law, but I know what you’re doing – and out on the streets, everyone is their own judge and jury. Incidentally, I actually mean the phrase “out on the streets” literally for possibly the first time. While I feel that it is cowardly and petty to cut me back off to pass someone, I’d like to thank you for going the extra half mile and using your turn signal to let me know it was going to happen. Also, now that you’re driving the speed I’d like to be going, I don’t care anymore. I hope you feel better knowing that your minivan has better pickup than my 94 Civic with a field liner and 85 additional pounds of disc golf and flag football equipment in the backseat, but it means very little to me. I advise you from now on to drive the speed you’d like to go and not worry about impressing people like me because it’s not working. I should not be that important to you. Have a safe and enjoyable rest of your trip.

Regards,
The Dickhead in the Honda Civic.