Cape Cod, The Prequel, Our Drive To Paradise

Driving to Cape Cod this year was an ordeal; and that’s putting it mildly.  It was 5 ½ hours of being tortured by every type of driver that I hate.  And you do too.  We start off with the weaver.  Already you know what this jerk is all about. He’s in a lowered Honda Civic with orange rims and a loud muffler.  In and out of traffic, switching lanes without signaling.  Darting into the tiniest of spaces. You know this guy.  Hey buddy, pal, you want to end your life, no problem.  But count me out.

The cutter is a particularly arrogant asshole in that he or she is too good to wait with the servants, peons, and other assorted little people on something so trivial as a five-mile backup to the bridge.  No, they try to zip right in and jack your spot.  Didn’t you know? It’s their right. Don’t let him cut in front of you.  You say. But if you don’t, YOU cause the 10-car pile up.  Who needs that grief?   So you be a gentleman and take the high road by letting him in, clenching the steering wheel, gritting your teeth, muttering under your breath if you have kids in the car, screaming and cursing if you don't.  

The most loathsome creatures of all are ones who drive in the breakdown lane.  Some d-bag in a late model minivan, stuffed to the gills with kids and gear, bombing down the road, just kicking up dirt and debris, like nobody’s business, without a care in world. La-de-dah-de-dah.  Yes! You know this lowlife because they are the same ones that don’t know how to count in the 12 item or less aisle.  The same ones that take up two spaces in the parking lot; both of them handicapped.  The same ones who never have exact change but always end up in the exact change lane.   “Look kids,” he says, “This is how d-bags drive. Take notes.” 

Well, much to my delight, I would like to tell you that they met with an untimely bump in their vacation plans. Oh yes.  Cop cars planted themselves at both ends of the breakdown lane.  No one would let them back in.  It was a thing of beauty.  Drivers started cheering and no one posted a police presence on WAZE.  Yes! Finally, a cop when you needed one!