Miss Crankypants Does NOT Have Road Rage!

After Tuesday’s post, some readers pointed out that the cute photo of a cat driving reminded them of a lot of today’s impatient drivers. Back in the day, Mr. Magoo just plowed over the tops of cars, yelling, “Road hog!” as he merrily sped through whatever city he was in.
These days it’s called ROAD RAGE. Who would’ve thought that, in the majorly evolved 21st century, there would still be boobs behind the wheel who are dying to make the rest of us knuckledraggers learn our lessons in driver courtesy? Aren’t we supposed to be all love and peace by now? Only if you consider a punch in the nose as friendly.
Bad enough that a bunch of really really ticked off men are out there using their mud-splattered pickups as lethal weapons. First, they pull up so close behind you that you can smell the cheeseburger they’re eating. Then they spew the usual f-bombs and other assorted four-letter words, often with a visual aid, if you get the drift.
Road Ragers think you’re driving too slow, too fast, too close, too far or maybe they hate you because you exist. Then, in case you didn’t get the message, they stick their pickup’s nose up your car’s rear bumper .
At some point, guy road ragers gun the engine as they careen around you, as if to prove they’re superior just because their trucks reek of diesel or are jacked up so high they have to use a ladder to climb in.
Well. Miss Cranky can deal with these neanderthals. It’s the female Road Ragers that worry her.
Women who drive while holding a grudge are SCARY. Like the cat driver in Tuesday’s picture, when these gals encounter another car doing something up with which we will not put, it brings out the Grizzly Mama in us. A woman scorned is well–probably the same one you just cut off on the freeway. She sometimes imitates the Y gender, with all the accompanying crude words, gestures.
But watch out. She may also follow you for the next fifty miles, just waiting until you, in abject fear, pull off and head for the nearest public place to escape. Then she’ll slam on her brakes, leap out of the car and give you a scolding you’ll never forget.
How does Miss Crankypants know all this? Ahem. Devoted readers may remember a teensy little run-in she had last year with a motorcycle cop, who pulled her over for “unsafe lane change.” The nerve. The policeman was SO WRONG. One hundred and seventy-five dollars wrong!
Ever since, Miss CP has been just a tad paranoid as she tools around town. But road rage? Miss Cranky DOES NOT HAVE ROAD RAGE, YOU MORON!
Now outta the way–Miz CP has places to go. That’s because the cat is refusing to drive anymore until he gets his own jacked-up pickup truck.

About Linda S. Clare

I'm an author, speaker, writing coach and mentor. I teach both fiction and nonfiction writing at Lane Community College and in the doctoral program as expert writing advisor for George Fox University. I love helping writers improve their craft and I'm both an avid reader and writer of stories about those with wounded hearts.

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