Nov. 30th, 2010

caraig: (The Anger Sphere)
Many of you whom I know, and many more whom I do not, are reasonable, responsible drivers. You take care of the vehicle you operate, or ensure that the owner does; you drive sanely; you have no delusions about what it means to share the road with a million other people driving half-ton metal kinetic kill weapons. This letter is not for you.

Some owners out there, however, do NOT take care of their vehicle. They put off maintenance, even simple crap like oil changes. And then they wonder why everyone on the goddamn highway is glaring at them, fit to commit ocular murder, when they are sitting in their Econoline in the middle lane, trying to get it started after it stalled on them. Worse yet, these operators may not be the owners, and so they are getting a thousand tiny glaring needles of haaaaaaate when it's not their fault that the owner of the vehicle decided to skimp on maintenance.

Attention owners of commercial vehicles: I have had quite enough of seeing your vehicles stalled in the middle of the highway during rush hour. Please stop putting your drivers -- or yourselves -- into situations where half of I-280 South wants your vehicle disintegrated into a trillion flaming bits.

There are other owners out there, who, like the rest of us, want to go home quite badly. The realities of today's urban sprawls mean we all have to share the same stretches of asphalt, however. Your vehicle is not the Popemobile. It is not running with lights and sirens, it is not the Chariot of the Gods, it is not the goddamn Batmobile. It is, in fact, much like any other car on the road: Half a ton of metal and plastic whose body is just as delicate as any other vehicle's.

Attention asshats: Stop driving like you own the road and you will stop having accidents that make all traffic on I-280 go at 5 miles per hour, for ten miles behind you. Your fellow drivers will thank you. Your employer will thank you. Your spouse/significant other/children/therapist/dog/cat/bonsai tree will thank you. Your body shop might not thank you, but they will be pleased to know that you aren't trying to kill yourself or your fellow commuters, and for that they will thank you. And now I shall:

Thank you.

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caraig

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