Zippy and His Big Mouth

My wife is mad at me because I cannot control my tongue when it comes to bad drivers, and by saying ‘bad,’ I mean STUPID.

Here is the situation: it’s a four-lane roadway, the speed limit is 55 miles-per-hour, and in the slow lane is a dually pick up truck doing only 50 mph, and you are behind him, left turn signal blinking on-and-off, and the drivers in the lane next to you are passing you one at a time, and no one is letting you in so you can pass this fucking idiot — I mean this dually driver.

You finally get around that particular driver, only to have a 1975 Datsun pull slowly into your lane. You were going 55 mph, and they were at a stop sign when they drove into your lane. Mind you — you were only a couple of hundred feet from the stop.

What do you do?

In my case, I stepped hard on the brake, looked for an escape route around the piss-ass – I mean the Datsun truck and driver — then downshifted, blowing by him on his right where there is no roadway, only gravel. Happy to have avoided a crash, I stepped on the gas, but because I’m still in second-gear, I wound out the engine, making it sound like a jet taking off.

That’s when my wife, bless her heart, says, “You’re in the wrong gear. I think I can drive better than you.”

Yup — that’s exactly where Zippy lost his shit.