Why the DMV Should Just Close Up Shop

Driving is such an awesome thing to do these days. With cities continuing to expand, and jobs moving farther and farther away from residential areas, the ability to drive a vehicle (or ride the local public transit, which is what I'm reduced to at this time. Blame the rising price of gas.) is pretty much a necessity. However, with more and more people on the road, we get more and more idiots on the road as well.

Just last week, I was walking home from the bus stop I get off at, minding my own business. I came to a road I needed to cross, and decided to let a car that arrived at the intersection before I did go. I know that pedestrians have the right of way, but I'm also not about to be a jackass to someone in a metal battering ram that's probably 20 times my mass, that can go at speeds 20 times greater than my own.

I wave him through, he waves back in gratitude, everything is swell. Once he got a fair distance through the intersection, I headed out as to avoid any further downtime for the other vehicles. That's when I noticed Miss Red SUV had followed Mr. Truck through the intersection at a speed that, while fooling no one, was to put enough distance between the two vehicles to appear that she had waited longer than half a second to place her 20 pound box of donuts on the gas pedal.

Ok, that last bit wasn't fair. To her credit, she was a very slim, attractive woman. You see, I was able to get a steady enough look at her face because she stared at me the entire way through. Her window was down, and if I were a quick enough thinker, I would have used my waterbottle to sprinkle her with some water, as she was clearly running some sort of marathon.

Slightly aghast at what just transpired, I continued along my way, chuckling like a certain local radio personality by the name of Ray. I won't go further, but those of you who know who I'm talking about will understand the air of dismissing superiority I was putting on. Good thing Mr. Mercedes was there to pop up on the curb right next to me to snap me out of my self-righteous stupor.

Ok, so now my heart was racing, because the last thing you want to see after hearing a loud noise is a giant white blur rushing two feet away from you. I finally calmed down about five minutes later, just in time for some car to pop onto the side walk ten feet in front of me. I guess that guy likes his turns the same as his shaves, because I was positive I heard the pilot (he clearly has his wings, by the way he was flying) yelling something about "touching Sascha" and laughing "Cry some more!"

Needless to say, I stayed on the inside of the sidewalk the rest of the way home. I think my prayers were even loud enough that I converted a few people to a faith that is mildly infatuated with some phrases popular among sailors.