Do I win an award for a 2:1 ratio of cuss/non-cuss word title?
So we were driving home from my great aunt's birthday party through the mountains of Idaho. We were driving home on the 95 and for a nine or ten mile stretch, they were resurfacing the pavement. They put down fresh oil and covered it with gravel to resurface it, leaving the traffic to the inside lane. There was loving loose gravel everywhere and it was flying all over our truck. The speed limit was 45 for obvious reasons, not that I would want to go any faster in a twelve foot lane with rocks everywhere surrounded by a concrete median and a series of cones with a sharp curve every thousand feet or so.
Anyway, we ended up with two cars behind us, one starfish in a white Taurus hatchback and the other in a navy Chrysler 300. Around a curve, all of the sudden the bitch ass mother forgeter in the white Taurus comes shooting around the corner going at least 70 on loose gravel in the closed off lane with kids in the car. I wished so hard that there was a loving bulldozer around that damn corner to smoosh his loving face in. He goes back into the main lane, but not before clipping a cone and tearing it into the middle of the lane. He speeds off and is gone from sight in less than a minute, going at least 80.
When the outside lane finally opens up and we pull into it, the other bitch ass mother forgeter hauls ass by and lays on his horn, cuts us off and flips us off. It's like, loving grow up.
Some people are such starfishs, it's going to be so hard not to develop road rage when I get my license.
