Tan Ford Escort Sedan w/dented-in driver’s side, NH plate 123 something

So this morning this jackass almost kills me on 101 heading up a hill just before Exit 3. I’m buzzing along in the passing lane when, with no warning at all, this beat up Ford Focus just merges right at me. No blinker, just some f*ckhead with his phone glued right to his skull. We came extremely close. If this were the old Forester I would have opted for the wreck, no questions asked.

After he settles in front of me, I have my horn and high beams going for a solid 20 seconds. I am f*cking pissed off. I mean extremely pissed. I have a negative tolerance policy for cell phone assholes. And that is a policy even tougher than zero tolerance. It’s unbelievably tough.

Ultimately, he moves to the right lane and I pass. As I overtake him, I am gesturing wildly, making up things that don’t even exist in modern culture yet. He’s still yapping away – I mean this call is unbelievably important – but sheepishly tries to hide the phone when I make eye contact. I was still fired up, no question about it, but I presumed that to be the end of it.

Indeed not the end at all as it would turn out. As I’m flying along, in my rearview I see coming up from behind in the passing lane my very same asshole phone friend. And he is screaming along. And still talking by the way.

Now ahead of us, there are 2 semis, and I love this game. He’s going to try and pass me on the right. I have absolutely no intention of letting that happen, even though I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what this guy is all fired up about at this point. After all, he’s the one…..nevermind. He’s a complete moron.

So I can see him just to the right of me in the passing lane, giving it all he can. Inching closer. I am looking right at him through my right rear passenger window. I give it a little more gas. Pull away just a touch. Just a hair. I’m waving at him, mouthing and giving the hand gesture for “BRING IT ON“. It’s futile for him, and it’s just pissing him off. This isn’t the fastest whip I’ve ever owned, but it’s certainly owning his crazy-asshole-behind-the-wheel ass. The semis are getting closer, and he’s got a decision to make pretty soon, because the one on his side is a hell of a lot closer. He tries mightily to pass, but it just can’t happen for him, and he shamefully backs off, pulls behind, and keeps on a’talkin. Soon, we part ways without incident; our collective rage trapped between the semis as he takes the next ramp.

Now, can I justify what I was doing?

Nah. You can’t drive like that; it’s not safe.

But at least I wasn’t doing it with a cellphone stapled to my head and one hand on the wheel.

I hope you end up in traction.

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