So, today’s hate is directed at people who ignore the laws of physics. Those of you that know me well are rolling your eyes right know, cause you know where this is going. That’s right, we are going to talk about my truck. Stop rolling your eyes. I’m talking to you, Baby Sister.
Anyway, I drive this:
Her name is Gretchen. Also known as the War Wagon. Because if Wondergirl is in it at the same time as either The Destroyer or The Weirdo, and they happen to be looking at, touching, or existing too close to her, war breaks out. Then I have to intervene with threats of going nuclear and wiping everyone out.
But I digress. Back to hating.
Where I live, Gretchen is fine. Admired even. She doesn’t bother anyone and they respect her. But let me cross the bridge into Hipsterville, USA. Somehow, as soon as Gretchen’s mudders come in contact with the pavement over there we get problems. From two groups:
1.) The microcar/hybrid driver. These effin people. I swear. They like to be in Gretchen’s personal space. For instance, they are so busy being smug that, even though they know for a fact that they see Gretchen in the next lane, they just don’t care. They just straight up cut her off. And then REFUSE to speed up. Then look in their rearview mirror and are shocked to see her moose-guard inches from the back of their head. SHOCKED, I tells ya. Or, (man I’m getting worked up now) OR Gretchen will be parked on the street, and one of them will be parked under her bumper. Then, because Gretchen doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head and they were invading her personal space anyway, the smug driver comes out and is shocked, SHOCKED to find a dent in their hood. The nerve. Gretchen doesn’t want to hurt you guys, but the laws of physics dictate that if you don’t respect her size and velocity, she probably will.
2.) Bicyclists. Man, oh man. First off, can I just say, that nobody likes these people. They are even complete douchebags to each other. I’m not talking the casual bike rider here. Or even the person who rides as a means of transportation. No. Oh, no. I’m talking the “I-am-who-Lance-Armstrong-took-drugs-to-try-to-be-even-though-no-one-knows-or-cares-about-who-I-am” bicyclist. They cause accidents and somehow, SOMEHOW, are never, ever, ever, at fault. (Sorry about both the caps and italics, but the hate is real in these streets.) These mickey-frickeys actually feel like they can lay hands on Gretchen. That’s right folks, they actually hit her. With their hands. While she usually takes it well, THIS is how angry it makes me:
How come they never consider the fact that the only thing keeping me from following them until they are one block from their destination and running them down is my that I am a Christian and murder is not loving your neighbor? And that I would probably run out of gas. Honestly, just those two things. Not even the fact that my kids are always in the truck with me would be considered during my vehicular rampage. They do not respect the laws of physics, because if they did, they would know that if Gretchen hit them back, blood and Lycra would be everywhere. So much blood and Lycra.
Well, you will probably see a Gretchen-and-I-almost-killed-someone-today story every once in a while. It happens more often than you would think.
It’s Friday. What are you hating on today?