So, when you see a red mini-van with a bad hair mama, four screaming kids, and a bright yellow triangle in the window that says “Mom’s Taxi” that means get the hell out of the way or I'll run your ass over. How dear you drive the speed limit when I have exactly nine minutes to get somewhere that according to Google Maps takes 16 minutes? I am a word problem on four wheels and I know exactly how this equation goes down. If I am able to drive 15 miles per hour above the speed limit consistently from the moment I leave my house until I arrive at the rehabilitation center where I take one of my kids 4 times a week, I can get there in exactly 9 minutes, which makes me on time or an acceptable one to two minutes late that is overlooked based on clock variance. If I get behind a car that goes only slightly above the speed limit, I can be a tolerable but slightly rude 10 minutes late. If I get behind a law-abiding Pollyanna in her shiny Prius who is going below the speed limit, I will be the dreaded “Sorry, you are 15 minutes late and we cannot see you even though we really have nothing else to do for the next 30 minutes of your regularly scheduled appointment, so maybe we’ll eat a snack or catch some General Hospital while we send you home and bill you full-price for your appointment. Did you know that good moms bring their children on time? Have a nice day and don’t get road rage on the way home.”
Although counseling and the fear of another enormous ticket for aggressive driving has assuaged my road rage slightly, I still recommend that you get out my way as soon as you can hear the Prince music and see my determined look of disdain as I glare at you in your rearview mirror. If we all follow these easy road rules, there will be less cursing, honking and middle-finger extension.
