Funny Messy Life

I’m not sure if anybody’s ever done research on why Americans become rabid, buggy-eyed butt hornets when we get behind the wheel, but if they ever do figure it out, I want to be among the first ones to know. I know it’s easy to want to point a finger at the other guy - usually the middle one - when there’s one road, but more than one driver. But whenever something goes wrong, I’m finding that nine times out of ten, I’m the one with the problem. So I’ll call myself a butt hornet when it fits, but there’ve been occasions when I did nothing wrong and still got the raw end of the deal. I enjoy driving, for the most part, except when other people do things that get all up under my skin. I’ll list a few examples so you’ll get a solid picture of the kinds of things I’m talking about: Going too slow in front of me. Going too slow beside me. Going too slow when you’re pulling out in front of me. Going too slow when you’re making your turn in front of me. Pulling out in front of me. Making a turn in front of me. BEING