Don’t F*ck With The Trucks
I should know better than write blogs like this one. They just get me in hot water.
But, this morning, driving to a meeting, I asked myself: “Why are so many Ford-150/250/350 pickup drivers such angry, road raged, aggressive jerks?”
The question was prompted by my slowly cruising up, as I usually do, Bedford Road around 6:30a.m.
The streets were slick as glass, yet the F-150s and F-250s and even occasional F-350 were crawling up my as
s, and everyone else’s, who deemed to go just the speed limit.
Long lines of cars and trucks streamed, broke rank and order, randomly crisscrossed lanes, more like a mad cattle stampede, as swerling snow nearly blinding all, in the rush to jobs at Ft. Custer Industrial Park.
I noticed this same phenomenon recently on a long drive to rural Northwest Missouri and back.
In those Missouri neckofthewoods, pardner, if you aint got at least a F-150, or king size Dodge Ram, you probably change baby diapers, do laundry, let the wife go out with girlfriends on Friday night, and drink beer with foreign names.
The only thing worse than driving a compact car, is driving a compact truck. With a Toyota or Suzuki brandplate.
I don’t give twit or lick what people drive or beer they drink.
Except when their road rage, back bumper crowding, switchbacking behavior makes me wish I had a Glock in the glove compartment.
But this ain’t Texas.
You can give me your best shot. I drive an old Michigan State Trooper car.
Talk about respect.
You wan na piece of me? Do you punk?
