Yesterday, I’m coming up a street on my way to a delivery, and some moron jumps out right in front of me and proceeds to go a whopping 25. There was no one behind me for at least half a mile. So I’m yelling (through the glass), “Really? Really? You couldn’t wait? Fucking moron!” I seriously hate when that happens. If you’re going to cut me off at least do the speed I was going or faster. If you have no intention of going as fast or faster, wait. Seriously, he would have had to wait 2 seconds for me to pass. Why is it that those two seconds are so important that he has all the time in the fucking world to go 25? I don’t get it.
At the top of the street, it happens again from another moron. Keep in mind that my car does 0-60 in about 5.5 seconds and can beat a Porsche Boxster as well as 90 % of the cars on the road. So I’m not exactly one of the slow ones on the road. Every time this happens it feels a little like someone yanked a choke chain around my neck. The next guy had the decency to go about as fast as I was going, so I was less annoyed. Annoyed that he did it, but not really annoyed at his pace.
So I get to my delivery, get my tip, get in my car and head back. I’m coming down the road the pizza place is on and a woman comes flying out of a side street without stopping, signaling, or even looking. A few seconds later and I would have hit her, and it would have been entirely her fault. Moron number three. We get to the light where the pizza place is, and just as it turns green and she starts down the street I give her the finger to let her know what I think of her driving. It’s a small consolation, but if it’s that or nothing, I’ll take giving the bird every time.
I don’t think people realize how many of these scary on the road stories there are. Literally hundreds. You can’t imagine the number of ways we almost die delivering you hot food quickly. But we do it. We do it for the tips. Remember that.
FYI: My blood pressure is always perfect when I go to the doctor. I don’t know how or why, I just know that it is. Maybe because I get mad, then get over it. I don’t carry this stuff around. That would be bad. You’ve heard of going postal, right? You don’t ever want a driver going mental like that. Trust me on that one folks, it wouldn’t be pretty.
The Driver (Adam Smith)
© Adam Smith and drivershout.wordpress.com, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Adam Smith and drivershout.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
“Kick Rocks” Pizza Delivery Nightmares by Adam Smith is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License