An Open Letter to the Adolescent-Minded Driver of the Silver Pontiac: This header is significantly more specific than my previous Open Letter, but still about cars. Go figure. This will contain language and situations that are funny, but not expected of me to type up for Facebook. Dear Adolescent-Minded Driver of the Silver Pontiac, We first met when I was driving on my way to Sonic to pick up an old favorite snack: a grilled cheese and French fries. As I was minding my own business (probably thinking about that grilled cheese sandwich), I saw your silver Pontiac approaching my lane. It was nothing unusual; you were turning left. End of transaction. Or so I thought. I was going less than forty, a nice cruise, when you caught up to me quickly. You might remember this, when you sped right by me before the intersection. “Well then.” I said to myself. But you had more for me. As you drove by, you held out the window with your fingers, the sign for “small penis”. (This would be extending your forefinger about two inches above your thumb.) Now, this assumption is generally reserved for people in big trucks with lift kits, big rims, etc. Or, in other words, vehicles that my car can fit into. Mr. Driver, I do not think that I am compensating with a tuner. Please hold passing judgment, because I know females who own trucks that are as mentioned above. Let me propose a question: What if you had contested the size of a female’s penis with that hand gesture? You would have felt pretty silly. That being said, you are a rude person, and you got the reaction you wanted. Congrats. P.S. You’d choke on it.
Posted on: Sun, 29 Jun 2014 02:25:41 +0000
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