Sunday Drive

It has been said that drivers in St. Cloud, Minnesota are the worst in the world. Spending a good deal of my time driving to and from work in this town, I know this fact to be true. I would venture to say, however, that ALL drivers in Minnesota are the worst- while I have not had the pleasure of driving across other states now and then, it is safe to say that from what I’ve seen of Minnesota drivers, if the rest of the country drove as such, we would have reverted back to horses as our main source of transportation long ago.

Why am I mentioning the flaws of the Minnesota Licensed, you ask? Let me tell you.

I have mentioned in the past that I play piano for church every Sunday. (You may laugh now at the thought of the Bookwhore in church, everyone does.) Because I have continued to move further and further away from the church, I now live a good hour’s drive away. This drive allows me to reflect on my week, and to crank up Rob Zombie’s Pussy Liquor and Zakk Wilde’s Counterfeit God and jam out while I drive.

Yesterday, I was going about my own business, cruising at an unapproved 70 mph when I came up behind a polk of a driver. The main road I take to church is a source of constant chagrin to me, as it is infested daily with drivers who insist on going under the speed limit, and it is a two-lane highway with many hills not acceptable for passing. This causes me to resort to the only choice that remains- tailgating the slow-polks to irritate them enough that they go faster.

Said polk was just jaunting along at a less-than-desirable 45 mph when I came up behind him. Since I was jamming out at the time to Sick Puppies’ Riptide, I perhaps didn’t quite notice that I was committing my habitual tailgating crime. I realized it when the man began to turn, and I passed him on the right, and he swerved as if to hit me, then proceeded to flick me the bird. I just waved as I cruised past him in my yellow truck, but inside, I was steaming.

On the remaining drive to church, I daydreamed about what my inner homicidal maniac wanted to do to that rude man:

I would have made a quick U-turn and followed that asshole down the rode of his choice, tailgating and laying on the horn until he decided to stop along some desolate highway. Then I would have stopped, thrown my lovely truck into park and jumped down from the excessively-tall cab, landing rightly on my bronze sparkly wedges I was sporting. I then would have proceeded to pound on the man’s hood like Tarzan before dragging his terrified ass outta his driver’s seat and shout, “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! JUST FUCKING GO FASTER, YOU DOUCHE!”. I then would have found it necessary to pummel his face to a bloody pulp before connecting my fabulous shoes with his manhood, at which time he would crumple to the asphalt, meanwhile, I’d be standing with hand on hip waving my finger at him and yelling, ” I better not see you going under 60 mph, and if you use that finger at me again in any way other than a pleasure-inducing manner, I will fucking bite it off, you fucker.”

Yeah, that woulda shown him!

Driving Minnesota

I have come to believe in my 14 years of driving, that I should be the only Minnesota driver on the road. This is why:

Last Saturday. it decided to snow. One of the joys of living in Minnesota is listening to the dumbshit weather people, and then laughing uncontrollably when they get it wrong. Every day. As I have never lived in another state, I do not know if ALL weather people went to Idiot School, but I am most assured that all the  Minnesotan ones did.

Anyhoo, the forecast for our first wintry storm was 1-2 inches. Then it changed to 3-4.  From what I could tell, it was at least 7. Now, I am not a great measurer of things, but I DO know what 7 inches looks like, (after all, that’s average )  After my Rockstar cleaned off my car for me, (because he refuses to tell me he loves me) I was off to work.

Now, I know several people who live in Minnesota that have not originated here, and I ask them all the same question. Why the fuck would you move HERE?! I admit, our ten thousand lakes (mudholes and swamps) may attract fisherman types, however, the long stretches of marshy swamplands along our highways would convince me this is a place NOT to move to, if I were a visitor. Anyway, my point is, most of the drivers on the road should be used to a bit of snow. This seems not to be the case.

There is a very strange thing that happens to Minnesota drivers when it snows. The people who normally are zipping along at excessive speeds instead are creeping along at 25-30 mph. I realize it is safest to slow down a bit because of icy roads, but when the plow has just blown by (while pelting my car with a wave of grey slush) there is no reason not to go at least 55. What never fails is that on a 4 lane highway, I will be stuck behind one of these fucktards; meanwhile, the plow that is scraping an almost clear road is blocking the other lane.  The result is a line of cars, bumper to bumper, two miles long, all because Joe Asshat forgot how to drive in the snow.

What is especially amusing is the number of cars one will see along a highway during the first snowfall of the year. How cruel of me to laugh at other people’s expense, you say? I have earned the right to laugh at these fools; having put my own car in the ditch 5 or 7 times. Every single one of those times was because I was going too fast and not paying attention on gravel roads. I am happy to say that it’s been at least 7 years since I’ve spent time in a ditch.

Getting to town is especially excruciating. I am convinced that St. Cloud’s stoplight system is run by evil leprachauns that use it for their own amusement. How else can you explain a green left turn light that only lets two cars through? If you are unlucky enough to be the third car, you will have the pleasure of sitting at that stoplight for at least 10 minutes before it is your turn again. The red lights for straightaways are also the longest I’ve experienced in my travels. So add to this the fuckerheads who aren’t paying attention and don’t know how to drive in the snow, and you will understand why I am so distraught that my car horn no longer works.

My Rockstar thinks I am a…. less than stellar driver. To him I say, “I’ve never been in an accident; when I text while driving I don’t swerve; when the light is green, I step on it (which makes the person in the other lane think I’m trying to drag race), when I cut people off, I’m going fast enough that they don’t even realize I was there, and when it snows, I make enough room for the idiots going 70 to pass me if they want.” I am considerate of other drivers, which I am convinced no one else is. Plus I know how to drive a stick shift. Both kinds. (Heehee)