Dear Self-Appointed Arbiters of Highway Safety:

(note – today I’m borrowing a template from one of my favorite, newly discovered blogs. After all, plagiarism is what I do best)

Let me get this off my chest right away: I hate you self-righteous fucks. Just because you don’t know how to drive in the snow (here’s a hint – gas is on the right, brake is on the left; hands at 10-and-2; you know, kind of like how you drive on a sunny day) doesn’t mean you have to pretend like your wheels are hanging perilously on the edges of a tightrope.

In Chicagoland, we got a dose of snow/sleet/rain on Saturday night. I was stuck in the suburbs, where apparently they rely on one plow and two salt trucks to cover 447 square miles. So yes, the roads were slick…but you fools were ridiculous.

Fifteen minutes after the precipitation began the roads had a glossy sheen to them. But you dickheads decided to parallel caravan three-abreast at 10 mph on the type of road under which normal circumstances folks would drive 65.

As I seethed behind you on one-lane roads, you slowed to a crawl at GREEN lights and STOPPED at intersections where only the crossing traffic had to yield. And maybe I shouldn’t have gotten up on your back bumper and flashed my high beams (or my impressive vocabulary of swear words), but really, I needed to teach you a lesson for trying to impose your weak wills on the rest of driverkind.

A few hours later and finally making my way back to the city, I entered a major interstate highway to find that you douchebags were intent on impeding my path home. At this point, about an inch of slush had accumulated on the ground, but to see you drive, I’d have thought there was a foot.

In the one lane IDOT had so graciously plowed, you drove coasted as if you were balancing a Faberge Egg on the tip of a sewing needle. I’m not saying you should have been doing the speed limit, but sweetheart, you have to go faster than 5 miles an hour in your four-wheel drive SUV! Isn’t that the point of buying that gas-guzzling monstrosity? And when I passed you (in my front-wheel drive, 4-cylander sedan) in the unplowed lane at 12 mph, your disapproving looks were about as appropriate as my next Andrea Yates joke.

Hey assholes, I’ll consent that the snow is a good reason to drive with caution…but “caution” can’t come at the expense of “drive”. I think I saw a dude pushing his stalled car on the shoulder faster than you!

You must always remember that I’m an important man with people to see and places to be. If you douchebags can’t get out of my way, next time I’m sending you careening off the road in the hopes that I have spared the world of future generations of vehicular pansies.