Road Rage is my Anti-Drug.

The main street of my neighborhood is always busy during
the early afternoon. When you turn onto it from the direction
of my house, there is a merge lane. This is so one doesn't
stop at that intersection and block traffic for ten minutes.

I was driving out of the neighborhood today, and the guy in
front of me STOPPED at the intersection. There was nobody
coming; I thought maybe he was blind or crazy. He seriously
sat there staring at the invisible oncoming traffic for a
full minute (which is a long time!) before whipping out (as
if he was trying to get out before the invisible oncoming
traffic hit him) into the merge lane.

I sighed and thought Idiot! and proceeded right into the main
lane at my reasonably safe speed of thirty-five miles per hour
(it's posted at thirty on the road.)

The guy Sped. Up. We were dead even.

I slowed down to let him merge. He slowed down to PISS ME OFF.

I sped up to kill him with my exhaust.
He SPED UP AND PASSED ME AND MERGED AND THEN PROCEEDED
TO DRIVE TWENTY-ONE MILES PER HOUR FOR THE NEXT HALF MILE.

By the time we got to the light at Thomasville four years later,
I was fuming. Both hands were gripping the steering wheel, white-
knuckled, and my left eyeball was visibly twitching. I wanted to
get out of my car and beat him over the head with my car jack.

Luckily for me, it was about that instant when the Civic three
cars up emitted a series of sparks from under the hood, causing
the gasoline tanker two cars in front of me to explode, killing
my little friend in the process. It was unexpected, admittedly,
but really the flash was incredible. Like a giant orange firework.
And please, it's not as if anyone will be sad to see the loss of
another bad driver. Although I guess some part of me does feel
bad about all that wasted gasoline.


...Well, that's what I imagined happening, anyway.