24 May 2002 - 4:48 p.m. So, I go to leave my driveway, and they've built a four-way-stop intersection in front of my house. Now everyone is confused. People are inching forward. They're dripping along like lethargic anteaters, and this one guy speeds through without looking. He's driving a Camaro and he's got a mullet. Where the hell am I? Have I suddenly been transported to 1984 in Dickhead world? I finally get out of my driveway after shouting expletives at a confused old lady. I'm breathing hard through my nose, and up ahead is mullet-boy. He's doing this driving in the middle of-the car because I'm too cool to sit- upright thing, and I'm pointing and screaming, "What the hell is that? He's slouching and leaning so far over he must have the gear-shift up his ass!" He's steering with his right hand and he's got the seatback reclined so far that he's practically looking through the hoop of the steering wheel. Apparently, this is "cool." Oh, and he's got a big sticker on his back window that says, "Camaro." No shit, ass-monkey! I mean, *ooh, Camaro.* Where's you "Fear This" sticker, moron? My engine is going "Vreeeeee," I get a little closer and I notice another decal on his window. It's an image of a cartoon character pissing on a Ford logo. Now he's gone too far. Now he must die. Then this guy behind me passes me in thr break-down lane, and cuts in between me and mullet-head. Then he gives me the finger. At this point, I'm just looking around to see if anyone else has seen this. Then I give him the OK symbol--and then the finger. He's got a sticker in his window too. It says, "Reserve Policeman." I am fucking thrilled. I must have forgotten to check my calendar, because evidently it is "Fucking Asshole Awareness Day." Now I'm stuck behind finger-boy, and he's got one big ear and one little ear and a Marines haircut. Then the "Check Engine" light on my dash board goes on. At this point I am repeatedly slamming my forehead into the rim of the steering wheel and shouting, "Why? Why? Why?" I decide to pass both the assholes. So what if there's oncoming traffic? So I slam my car down into second gear and speed past dickheads one and two, when suddenly the road turns. 90 mph, lots of traffic and a winding road? NOT GOOD! I am somehow facing backward now, and my tires have turned into ice cubes. My steering wheel is sticking its tongue out at me and saying, "Nyah, nyah. Nyah, nyah" and the other drivers around me are just saying, "AAAAGGHHHH!" I'm beginning to black out from the G-forces. All the other cars are scattering like a dropped bag of marbles, and I'm twirling like a two-thousand pound ballerina. Then I'm stopped. My car is on the median strip. I haven't hit anything. I look around. Hey, donuts. (0) Comments?