Confessions of a Serial Swooper

Hey You.

Yes, You.  You, the woman in the big ole’ white Mercedes Benz.

You.  The one that refused to move aside on the street today when I clearly had the right of way on that narrow, old town street meant for horses to pass alongside one another…not my SUV and your Benz.

Yes, You.  You, who saw that big old pick-up truck parked on your side of the street.  You who chose to speed up towards me instead of moving aside behind the truck so I could pass first.

Just so you know.  I know you now.  Because, I saw your vanity plate pass by as I was forced to barrel my Jeep onto a sidewalk, narrowly missing a mailbox.

It’s a memorable plate, lady.  You probably meant it that way.

But, I’ll tell you what “WKG MOM” in your giant Mercedes Benz.    I know one thing.  Even without your poor driver etiquette.

Yup, I know one thing for sure.  Call me crazy, but it’s just a hunch I have.  You and I, Miss WKG MOM?   Nope.

I wouldn’t have liked you, anyway.