I am a good driver.

No, that’s not right. I’m a great driver. When it comes to directing my vehicle through the cement superhighways, I am the Tiger Woods of driving.*

With that in mind, picture this. I’m cruising in the “fast lane” of the local interstate in my super fly 1994 faded gray Nissan Altima with two hubcaps missing. I’ve got the radio cranked up and I’m cruising at a nice rate of speed. In my rear-view window I see a red sports car with a young blond behind the wheel holding a cell phone to her ear. She has been slowly gaining on me but she’s not quite close enough for me to change lanes to get out of her way. Even if she was, traffic was getting a bit tight and there wasn’t room to move over.

Because I’m such a good driver, I was looking farther down the road than is normally necessary and I notice that traffic is beginning to slow considerably about a 1/2 mile down the road. And because I’m a good driver and good drivers don’t plow into cars that are slowing to a crawl, I took my foot off the accelerator and began to slow.

The lady behind me, without removing the phone from her ear, suddenly became indignant that I would be slowing down and flashed her lights at me. As if to say, “Hey moron, why are you making me late to my tanning session?”

I did the classic raise-my-hands-in-the-air as if to say, “WTF?! Can’t you see all the frickin’ cars slowing all around us?! Or is that cell phone embedded so far inside your brain that it’s impeding the two synapses that remain in that vacant skull of yours?”

Or something like that.

The best part of it was that right after this she, of course, noticed the reason I was slowing down and realized that her flashing me with her lights wasn’t the best course to take. And I watched her quickly change lane after lane and exit the freeway with her tail between her legs.

Soon after, the traffic dispersed and quickly, but safely, proceeded on my way – blond-in-sports-car free.

*Honey, if I die in a fiery automobile crash someday, please delete this post from the blog. And don’t get remarried or I’ll haunt you forever. Thanks!