An Open Letter to the Guy Who Nearly Ran Me Over Today
Dear Tractor Trailer Operator who was driving along Interstate 275 at around 4:30 today,
First of all, how are you? I hope you’re doing all right. How are you enjoying the roads in Indiana? I only have to imagine that you haven’t driven this way before, because you certainly didn’t seem to want to be in the lane you were in once you saw that it was an exit-only lane to Interstate 74.
Of course, you might have seen the large, green signs that might have warned you that the lane you were in would shortly be parting ways with the highway which we were, for several minutes, so harmoniously sharing.
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However, I suppose I should give you the benefit of the doubt, so I suppose you were doing something more important, like trying to train the ocelot that you traded your GPS for (which would have warned you to keep right, otherwise—seriously, dude, just download Wayz). Mr. Fluffy Snuggles definitely needs to know how to learn how to sit up and meow “The Ride of the Valkyries” before you make it to wherever you were delivering—I get it.
Or maybe you just didn’t see the car I was in. It is a little nondescript, seeing as it is bright orange and had been driving near you for a few minutes. Perhaps we blended in in the corner of your eye with the luxurious, shining coat of Mr. Fluffy Snuggles.
We are doing just fine, by the way. Thank goodness we didn’t happen to have a car directly next to us, or that might have been a problem, right? Oh, and thank you very much for turning on your turn signal—it really helped us to know that you wanted into our lane, in case we missed your initial, subtle hint; you know, the one where you coyly started driving your truck into the area occupied by our small, surprisingly crushable compact.
Oh, and sorry that my fiancee honked her horn at you. You see, she has this little thing—you know, it’s nothing, really, it’s just that she has this problem with getting a little agitated when she gets within two or so feet of horrible, crushing, vehicular death that forces her to dive, without looking, into another lane of traffic, offering us a number of creative, graphic dooms to explore over the next several minutes as you laid on the gas away.
So, I hope you are doing well, and maybe will pick up Wayz before you drive through again. Give Mr. Fluffy Snuggles a kiss for me.
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- Daniel SuscoEditor
Daniel Susco is a native of the Dayton-Cincinnati area, and has written on a multitude of subjects. He can discuss Shakespeare, expound on Classical Mythology, and even make witty jokes about Pliny the Elder (More like “Pliny the Rounder,” right?). In his free time, Daniel enjoys reading, cooking, woodworking, and long walks on the beach (just kidding – sunburn is no joke). See more articles by Daniel.