THIS BIRD DON'T FLY

Now, my mother has been on my case about this for years and is convinced that I will someday die from being shot for flipping someone off on the road. I'm not very concerned about this whatsoever, and so I continue. Now, I can be a very courteous driver. I will let you in and don't care that I'm ahead of you. I will wave when you let me in. I can BE nice. But you break the rules, and I lose it.

I have always been a give-the-bird girl, which is not a pretty habit. Once some of my family were headed to my Mormon side of the family's reunion in Grants Pass, Oregon. I drove my brother and I, and we followed my dad as he drove my very religious aunt, and my super sweet and innocent great aunt and uncle. We were driving through a very curvy part of the mountains in Oregon and my dad was up ahead of me and out of sight. A couple of log trucks were in the right-hand lane clogging up traffic and I managed to swerve into an open spot in the left lane and started to pass them.

Now, I am freaked out of heights. I already get pretty nervous driving cliffside, so here I am driving up into the mountains on a curvy road and when I glance to my left, it just goes down, down, down. So, I'm passing the first log truck and barely pass the nose of it when this car that was hidden in front of the log truck swerves into my lane and I swerve and barely miss hitting the guardrail. The crazy car swerves back into the log truck lane realizing what they just did. I honk the car, flip off the car, glance over and scream, "FUCK YOU! STUPID FUCKERS! FUCK YOUUUUUUUU!"

My breathing staggered, my knuckles white and gripping the steering wheel, I try to regain my composure. My brother then breaks the silence, "Uh Heather, I think that was Dad."

My heart dropped. I wasn't so worried about flipping off my father as I was devastated that I just flipped off my judgmental, Mormon aunt and my pure Mormon great aunt and uncle. They were the only ones who still thought I was pure damn it! And now this. I will never forget stopping at the rest area after that incident. I got out of the car wanting to cry and avoid them all. My dad apologized saying he thought I was trying to let him in, and the rest of them consoled me, reassuring me that my father was a terrible driver.

There's no denying that I'm also an aggressive driver. I blame this on having lived in Phoenix where you must drive 80-85 mph to survive on the freeway, and it's all about looking for the hole up ahead to target as your next space in traffic. This worked in Phoenix. You HAD to be aggressive! I kept the flipping off to a minimum though, as there are some crazy, crazy people down there and even I was more cautious.

When I moved to Kentucky, I took my history of the bird and my now aggressive driving and moved to the true boonies. On my 42-mile commute one-way to Lexington, I would sometimes get stuck behind an old man on a tractor barely moving. I think I once saw his wife with a walker catch up to him on foot and hand him a lemonade. I would curse and flip off tractor man.

"Dear Lord Heather! You need to just accept that life moves a little slower here," my Mom would say.

"But I need them to go FASTER!" I would whine.

I never really adapted to that, but I managed to eliminate giving the bird and honking at the Pa-pahs, as they called them. I just cursed him out, but he couldn't hear me.

I then moved back to Washington. Land of stand still traffic, bad Jesus fish drivers, stoned drivers, and invisible drivers (I know there's gotta be SOMEONE behind that wheel). Back came the flipping off to match the cursing and yelling. The honking has only been reserved for near-hit situations. People just know this about me and I'm okay with it. However last Saturday I crossed into a new realm of evil. One that made me realize something needed to change.

I was headed to Seattle to get my hair colored. I'm driving onto the West Lake Sammamish onramp onto 520. This ramp is two lanes at first and then quickly merge into one as it then merges into the freeway. So I'm driving up the ramp and I pass this green Subaru. The car in front of the Subaru merges in front of me. That is fine, it's ahead of me, but apparently the Subaru now wants to do the speed limit and pass me as the two lanes merge and the asshole floors it and swerves into my lane.

I am fucking pissed! "YOU FUCKING COCK SUCKER!!!!" I slam on my horn and flip the guy off. Nothing. I honk again though it's done and I should just let it drop. Nothing. I honk again and flip him off once more cursing "FUCK YOUUUUUUU!" He flips me off. I feel strangely gleeful. I flip him off and hold up two fingers screaming, "FUCK YOU TWOOOOOO!" I don't wait for the solid line to break, but quickly get into the far left lane. The Subaru gets into the lane to my right, as the lanes merge into just the two lanes plus the carpool lane. There is a car doing the speed limit in front of the Subaru. I slow down so I am blocking him in and he can't pass that car. I refuse to look at the asshole and continue pacing myself with him so he can't pass. I yawn and look straight ahead.

I really need to speed up so I can make my hair appointment, but I feel the need for revenge. I continue this for about ten minutes until I get to my exit and then get into the right lane to exit. Subaru is freed from my reign of terror and gets into the passing lane and flies by a bunch of cars in my lane and onece again cuts off someone as they are exiting onto the next freeway. "FUCKER!" I yell.

Fuming about this the rest of the way to my appointment, I miss the exit to the salon and get there about 15 minutes late. I sit down with Lisa and Sean and see that I am red and start telling them of the Subaru incident and what I did. Sean kind of laughs and says, "You're proud of yourself, aren't you?" I say that I'm not. He then says, "No, you ARE. You're proud of yourself." And I laughed and realized I apparently was.

And that ladies and gentleman means I need to get the fuck out of here and relax! I need to escape the road rage I have acquired through the years and chill the fuck out. Until my great escape I am going to try out church and yoga. If that doesn't work I can at least breathe properly as I curse and then ask for forgiveness. Hahahahaha.

Wishing you love and no skin birds,
Heather