As bad as Brit

I have road rage. It's true. I used to yell at my brother for the same tendencies. Whenever a car around him did something stupid or cut him off, he would yell. I would attempt to point out that my brother's yelling affected only him and me (and other passengers in the car), while not affecting the offending party who cut us off. My pleas always fell on deaf ears.

Over the past few years, however, I have started to mimic my brother's bad habits. I'd like to say that I'm as a patient as the next guy [well, girl]... but when people (1) drive 65 in the fast lane or carpool lane, (2) don't signal, (3) cause you to drop 50 mph for unnecessary breaking during traffic hour [Oh no! Look! Some conjestion! Better jam on the breaks!] and then immediately accelerate to initial speed, (4) cut you off and then drive slowly, (5) never look in their rearview mirror etc., I'll admit--there is usually yelling.

Wendy and I recently drove to Salt Lake City together. On the way there, a number of the aforementoined incidents occurred. As a result, we were already on edge during our drive home.

During that drive, we managed to squeeze by an Expedition which was raised to a possibly illegal height with a driver who couldn't manage to keep all four wheels within the boundaries of one lane. For the record, I believe that anyone who defiles their car by raising it, putting lights underneath it or otherwise "souping it up" should actually be able to drive said car with some degree of skill. I know, I know. I ask for too much.

In any case, after passing that Expedition, we were then cut off by a Corolla, which caused Wendy to jam on her breaks and decrease her speed by 10mph while she was driving in the fast lane. Wendy and I proceeded to say "are you KIDDING me?" to each other in concert, after which Wendy zoomed around the Corolla. I managed to give the Corolla driver the look of death, after which Wendy retook her spot in front of the offending Corolla in the fast lane.

I realized when I looked at the driver and passenger in the Corolla, however, that both individuals were male with short haircuts, and were clad in white shirts, ties, and suits. While I didn't have enough time during the "death glare" to glance down at the guys' pockets and confirm their identity, all evidence (including the sheepish grin of the driver) points to the fact that we had just whizzed by and applied the death glare to two missionaries.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell as a result. Unfortunately, I still don't think I've learned my lesson. I'm assuming Wendy hasn't either--after I told her that missionaries were driving the Corolla, she responded, "well, they have to learn too!" I own the road, don't I?