An Open Letter

This is an open letter to the lady tailgating me earlier this today. I would have liked to have said this in person but I understand that you were to busy trying to hit children on the sidewalks to really have to much time to deal with me.

Dear Pschyo nutjob:

Hi, my name is Hossman and I'm the jagoff in front of you. I know that you probably don't like me but that's ok, you're a twat so that makes up for it. First let me tell you some things that you should probably know about traveling on this little road near my house.

First off, the speed limit is 40 but I understand that people go over that. In fact, right now we are going 45 and I feel pretty good about that. I'm guessing you don't as you are about two inches from my bumper. I don't know, maybe you are in a hurry or just really attracted to my bumper. It's a nice bumper. Chicks dig scars, or so I'm told.

Anyway, back to the speed limit on this road. It's a very bad idea to much faster than 5 miles over the limit here. The reason being is that the chief of police lives right off this road and for some odd reason there are always a crap ton of police officers pulling cars over here. I think that they can wrap up their entire monthly quota just by spending one afternoon here. Now I realize that I do drive like a grandma and don't really speed anyway, but at least this time I have a reason. That reason now being that I cannot afford a 150 dollar ticket near my house. Hossmom would shit a brick. But you must be made of money because you obviously want to go faster than I am going at the moment.

That's ok, I don't mind. Go right ahead and pass me. It's a two lane road so knock yourself out. Seriously, go ahead and pass me. Any day now. I'm waiting.

Ok, so you don't want to pass me yet and I'm not really sure why. Maybe you aren't in such a hurry anyway. Perhaps you are just not paying attention because of the cell phone conversation that you are on is very good. Maybe you are talking to Mike Rowe. He's a good guy, I like Mike Rowe. Maybe you are trying to convince him to do a dirty job, like tailgating random strangers. If you are talking to Mike Rowe, give me his number so that Hossmom can talk to him. She loves that guy.

But since you don't want to pass me, would you mind backing the fuck up? Just a tad? It's not really for me, it's more for you. My car is 10 years old. It has some dents and scratches already. In fact, should you whack me it would probably improve the look of the vehicle. After all, this is the car that Little Hoss rides in and I'm pretty sure you can't do anything that she hasn't already done. However, your little car might get screwed up should I say, ya know, slam on the brakes to avoid a squirrel or something. I'm just saying.

It doesn't look like any of this is working and I'm in a bit of a mood today. Maybe I'm a bit sensitive since I have recently been rear ended. I don't enjoy it. Even if that was my line from a porno set, I still wouldn't enjoy it. So seriously, back up.

You have probably noticed that now I'm actually trying to piss you off. I'm going the speed limit now. I slowed down and I did this on purpose. I'm trying to give you a real reason to pass me but it doesn't seem to be working. Are you stalking me? Are you and old girlfriend? Did Little Hoss hire you and promise to pay you in Barbie Dolls? You are the worst stalker ever. So let's slow down a little more.

There we go, now I have your attention. Fantastic. Please back up a bit and I promise I will speed a tad again. No? Alright, no problem. I'm in no hurry, I can do this all day.

Wait, maybe I will speed up a bit, but not to much. I will speed up just enough so that I pull even with the car right next to me. He's going 45 too. Now even if you want to pass, you can't. I have made eye contact with my new best friend and we have both decided that we hate you. Yes, we hate you, very much. We have decided that you are the balrog of the road and we are Gandolf. You know what happens next, right? Do you want me to say it? Fine, but just for you: YOU SHALL NOT PASS. This is what we call a Mexican Roadblock. Enjoy. I hope this makes you feel better.

But it doesn't appear to because now I see you beating on your steering wheel. Honestly, I don't really know what you want of me. I promise that I'll buy you a cake on your birthday, will that make you back off? Probably not.

How about I call you on your phone while you are driving as that appears to be what you like best. I tell you what, I call you while you are driving and while I'm driving and then we can both side swipe the local elementary school bus that is right infront of me now. That would be great, we can bond over the carnage.

I would love to stay and continue to chat but this is my turn. I hope that as you swerve to miss my break lights that you lose control and crash into a tree.


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