The other day I was driving into town when I glanced in my rearview mirror and discovered a car practically on my bumper.
There are very few things in life that unite people from all walks of life quite like being tailgated. I don’t care who you are—we can all agree that the person riding six inches off your ass is annoying.
What exactly is the goal? Do they think if they get close enough I’ll suddenly discover a hidden gear? Because I hate to disappoint them, but my car doesn’t have a turbo button.
I checked my speedometer and I was already going over the speed limit. So why are you flying up behind me like that? If you’re transporting a kidney across state lines, I can understand the urgency. But if you’re just trying to beat me to the next red light, I have some bad news for you.
Sir, you need to cool your jets.
And let’s be honest—the closer you get to my bumper, the lighter my foot gets on the gas pedal. At this point, we’re both going to get beaten to the intersection by the turtle crawling out of the ditch.
Then they finally whip around and pass, giving me the glare like I’m the problem. Buddy, you should probably just be grateful I didn’t mistake your tailgating for a request to test my brakes.
At this point in life, I’ve stopped participating in other people’s emergencies. If you’re in that much of a hurry, pass me. Otherwise, plan on going slower then we both want to, cause I got all day!
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