To Guy on a Motorcycle with Middle Finger,
I agree. I am a big jerk. I am sorry. I should have scheduled the torrential downpour for another evening. Perhaps one in which you would choose to drive your car instead of a two-wheeled vehicle completely exposed to all the elements. And it was inconsiderate of me to plan poorly when paving the city streets, resulting in remarkably poor water runoff. It was also rather rude of me to fill that puddle in the road with mud, oil, and road tar.
I should not have sped ahead of you to attempt avoiding you with the splash. You're right, that was stupid and the total opposite of consideration for others. I should have maintained by pace, driving parallel with you through the six-inch deep body of standing murky water.
I also think that you were trying to tell me to drive on the shoulder while you passed me, since you sped by about 4 and a half inches from my side mirror. Although I have no idea why, since your lane was completely empty, as was the lane next to it. I apologize for not understanding this message sooner. You might have more easily slowed rapidly to a near standstill had you been in your own lane, and not seven and a half inches from my front bumper.
I probably deserved the middle finger you held up for me. Let me tell you, it sure was scary and very intimidating that you would express such hostility towards me while wearing your cute Aunt Jemima-esque bandanna and your sensational leather chaps. If I had hit you, my car would have been slightly blemished, while you would have most certainly lost your life. Or at least the control of your lower body and bowels. Even more intimidating was the drooping skin hanging from what was once your bicep area. That skin, when combined with the gelatinous mass hanging around your midsection, could most certainly do some damage were we to engage in fisticuffs.
Sincerely sorry for trying to do the right thing for a dunderheaded simpleton who rides his motorcycle minutes after a torrential downpour that could sweep from the streets dead leaves and small children,
robert fuel
I agree. I am a big jerk. I am sorry. I should have scheduled the torrential downpour for another evening. Perhaps one in which you would choose to drive your car instead of a two-wheeled vehicle completely exposed to all the elements. And it was inconsiderate of me to plan poorly when paving the city streets, resulting in remarkably poor water runoff. It was also rather rude of me to fill that puddle in the road with mud, oil, and road tar.
I should not have sped ahead of you to attempt avoiding you with the splash. You're right, that was stupid and the total opposite of consideration for others. I should have maintained by pace, driving parallel with you through the six-inch deep body of standing murky water.
I also think that you were trying to tell me to drive on the shoulder while you passed me, since you sped by about 4 and a half inches from my side mirror. Although I have no idea why, since your lane was completely empty, as was the lane next to it. I apologize for not understanding this message sooner. You might have more easily slowed rapidly to a near standstill had you been in your own lane, and not seven and a half inches from my front bumper.
I probably deserved the middle finger you held up for me. Let me tell you, it sure was scary and very intimidating that you would express such hostility towards me while wearing your cute Aunt Jemima-esque bandanna and your sensational leather chaps. If I had hit you, my car would have been slightly blemished, while you would have most certainly lost your life. Or at least the control of your lower body and bowels. Even more intimidating was the drooping skin hanging from what was once your bicep area. That skin, when combined with the gelatinous mass hanging around your midsection, could most certainly do some damage were we to engage in fisticuffs.
Sincerely sorry for trying to do the right thing for a dunderheaded simpleton who rides his motorcycle minutes after a torrential downpour that could sweep from the streets dead leaves and small children,
robert fuel
"dunderheaded". I haven't heard that in a while, probably not since it was applied to me in my tender years, before the dawn of time.
still laughing...
You don't have to be so mean to eric. he doesn't know how to be a motorcyclist yet.
eww... I just though of Eric, in chaps. NO GOOD.