MOVarazzi

Thursday, August 5, 2010

83. Bizarro Driver

So I am driving to work. I am barely out of my driveway and this crazy insane wack-a-doodle driver cuts me off! In broad daylight! Like a drunk driver! I am outraged. Did I mention I am outraged? Bizarro Driver in a shiny new black Camry came thisclose to running me over, and I am sooooooooo not happy about it. I looked to the left before I made my turn, then I looked to the right, then back to the left (just like I tell my preschooler, left-right-left again). Guess what? Bizarro Driver was going about 100 miles per hour in a 15 zone! Is he trying to kill us all? I am hyperventilating. My life had flashed before my eyes. Swoop, just like that, car-out-of-nowhere-and-about-to-hit-me.I am still alive (barely). My car, miraculously, has no scratches. We (Brave Car and I) have narrowly averted the disaster that is this most unwelcome driver. I am breathing again (well, mostly). I approach the signal light. OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod, it is Bizarro Driver! In his sporty new black Camry that has "law-breaker" written all over it! Here at the red signal light stopped with his car right next to me! Arghhhh! What do I do? I can't help myself. I have been Almost Killed. I roll down my window to give Bizarro a piece of my mind. I motion to him in the emphatic Universal Roll-Your-Window-Down Sign Language to roll down his window (which in retrospect is kinda silly because most cars have automatic windows now, not roll-up windows-- what kind of "sign" should that be then? a push-button sign?). Bizarro wisely ignores me. I grow impatient so I honk my horn, beep-beep-beep, to get his attention. If The Husband were here, at this part of The Story he would say, you know what, MOV? You are being really stupid and you are going to get yourself killed by Bizarro with a gun, because Bizarro eats people like you for breakfast. Bizarro takes no prisoners-- that's right, because Bizarro kills them all. But I don't care. I don't care what The (not present) Husband thinks. Something is boiling up in me (ummm, stupidity?) and I must confront Bizarro! I am all "Fight or Flight" and guess which one is winning? Bizarro rolls down his window. Uh-oh. I look in the black Camry that is Bizarro's death vehicle of choice, expecting to find a mean-looking Criminal Type. Turns out The Husband's hypothetical fears (if he were in the car with me) are well-founded: Bizarro most certainly has a gun in his possession. Bizarro is a uniformed policeman. He removes his sunglasses (the better to glare at me) and drawls, "Yes?" I am caught completely off guard. I thought things were completely one way and now it turns out they are exactly NOT that way. "Uh, uh, are you, uh...............aware..... that..... uh, your left brake light is out?" Oh my God, I just lied to a policeman, am I going to jail now? Where is my Jesus CD when I need it? MOV ("Map Of Velocity")

No comments:

Post a Comment

When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)