More Redneck Road Rage

To paraphrase Richard Nixon, 'I am not a redneck.' Not normally anyway, but it sure seem like rush-hour traffic and those yankee immigrant drivers make me want to cue up Toby Keith (sorry, couldn't think of anybody more redneck on the spur of the moment).

I do drive a full-size Ford F-150 with a small V-8 and pipes out the side (not my doing; very popular with older daughter and her friends; keeps the neighbors awake), so a note to this morning's drivers . . .

You in the Kia SUV (Sorry Undersized Vehicle): what makes you think that tailgating me is going to make me drive faster, especially when I can barely see your luggage rack over the top of my tailgate? I'm 52 years old with two teenagers, an ex-wife and a former-Marine father-in-law with a notched-handle .45 automatic. Why would I be intimidated by your 4-cylinder stocking stuffer?

And you in the new Volvo: go ahead and try to cut me off again. My truck costs about 1/3 the price of your over-priced, hello-my-name-is-Inga toyota. Let's test out its safety features, as advertised in Affluent A** Magazine.

Whew! I feel better now.

Morning Maker: stopping at the Valero gas pumps on Loop 820 and White Settlement Road. 14 pumps, 12 filled with pick-up trucks. All others empty. Gasoline with a testosterone rush -- $2.77 a gallon.

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