Ah...road rage
Well, I got an interesting taste of language today. As mom and I were coming home from dinner with my grandmother I was about to pull out onto the road from the one that leads to my grandma's condo when this truck (camo and rusty) comes flying over the hill. So I put on the brakes. Didn't have to slam them or anything, and I wasn't even sticking out into the road. So the car flys past me and I pull out. Then, ahead of us, it slams on the breaks and a guy hops out of the drivers seat. His arm is in a cast and he yellas at me, telling me to whatch where I was going. Apperently I'm an "f"ing bitch. I never knew that. He then gave me some more rude gestures and fishtailed on out of there. Mom wanted to break his other arm with my hickory tire knocker. I'm just glad mom was with me, or I would have been pretty scared when he got out of the car. What a scuz bag. I hope he has a wreck, and with the way he was driving he might very well have one. Granted my mom has his liscence plate number, so...that might be bad news for him since one of my dad's workers has friends in the police force. Needless to say, there is someone who needs to be taking out of the gene pool.