My husband and I were afraid we were in for a rough New Year's Eve when other motorists tried to kill us twice within the first five minutes we were on the road.
The first near-death incident was on the highway. A giant Suburban lumbered across three lanes of traffic right in front of us before speeding away. I marked his passage with some colorful language, prompting my husband to say, "You probably curse all the way to work just like that every morning, don't you?"
At first I said, "Yes," but then I realized that I am much crabbier on my morning commute when I'm tired and I haven't eaten breakfast or had any caffeine. There's just no comparing that to a leisurely New Year's Eve drive when I'm rested, primed with Red Bull and ready to enjoy a lovely evening of music and fun. The level of profanity is probably about the same, but the mood behind it may vary is all I'm saying.
Maniac Number 2 joined us after we'd exited the highway and were sitting at a stoplight. The left turn arrows turned green and MN2, who was directly behind us in a huge pickup truck, leaned on his horn angrily. I looked leftward at the two empty turn lanes just to make sure I wasn't mistaken about not being in one of them. MN2 continued honking and pulling forward ominously until the light changed. I went on my way and watched in my rearview mirror to see if he would then turn left, but he didn't. Dumbass.
In my tiny Honda Insight, I drive very defensively. One hit from an SUV is all it would take, to paraphrase Tom Lehrer, to cause me and any passenger I have to "drop our agendas and adjourn." I only wish that the overly aggressive drivers of huge cars were as aware of that risk as I am.