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Green light, okay? I am turning right. You are oncoming, on the other side of the intersection and turning left, without a green arrow. Therefore you must yield the right of way to me.
You did not do that. You went screaming through the intersection with your left turn. INTO THE FAR LANE, where I was, stuck behind a van person not going particularly fast so I couldn't gun it to get clear of you.
So you slammed on your brakes and made a bunch of gestures at me like I don't know how to drive or something. I responded by letting you know you're number one in my book, via a clever hand gesture. With the way you drive, you've probably seen it a time or 50.
Oh, this would not do. Your one inch on a good day just shriveled right back into your pelvis and nobody, but nobody makes you feel this way. Least of all some shmoe in a Saturn. So you pushed your 1988 Oldsmobile Shitheap to its limit so you could buzz past me at about 50 in a 35 mph zone and I could gaze upon your virile redneck-ness.
At least you didn't cut swerve back in front of me as to cut me off or something. The streets would've run with blood and Red Man, but I didn't really want to get my clothes dirty anyhow.
BTW, I noticed the two fine (cough) ladies (huh huh) in your backseat. You must've been on a hot date and wanted to impress your sister, and you let your cousin come along.
You did not do that. You went screaming through the intersection with your left turn. INTO THE FAR LANE, where I was, stuck behind a van person not going particularly fast so I couldn't gun it to get clear of you.
So you slammed on your brakes and made a bunch of gestures at me like I don't know how to drive or something. I responded by letting you know you're number one in my book, via a clever hand gesture. With the way you drive, you've probably seen it a time or 50.
Oh, this would not do. Your one inch on a good day just shriveled right back into your pelvis and nobody, but nobody makes you feel this way. Least of all some shmoe in a Saturn. So you pushed your 1988 Oldsmobile Shitheap to its limit so you could buzz past me at about 50 in a 35 mph zone and I could gaze upon your virile redneck-ness.
At least you didn't cut swerve back in front of me as to cut me off or something. The streets would've run with blood and Red Man, but I didn't really want to get my clothes dirty anyhow.
BTW, I noticed the two fine (cough) ladies (huh huh) in your backseat. You must've been on a hot date and wanted to impress your sister, and you let your cousin come along.
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