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Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Dear Tailgater,

Now that we've spent the last twenty minutes together I thought I'd confide with you my true feelings.

I understand that you're in a hurry and the position you've taken deep up my ass has made that urgency very clear. Perhaps you could recognize that, despite going ten miles per hour over the speed limit, I'm using the slow lane and I'd prefer not to drive any faster in my ancient commuting vehicle (I'm sure, from your proximity, you can determine the age of my car). Most motorists find this a reasonable situation and pass me by, but you're still well within my comfort zone and I can only guess at your reasons.

I've considered that perhaps you're turning off at the next exit, but if you are waiting for the exit then you should know that there's about eight more miles to go and that's a lot of time left to spend staring at the back of my vehicle.

I've also considered that you might be uncomfortable using the fast lane to your left, but nobody is on the road except for us, so maybe there's a different reason for your urgency.

I've even considered dyslexia. Maybe you don't know which lane you're in. If so, then I apologize for upsetting you, even if it was unintentional.

But when I gestured towards the no tailgating sign posted in bright yellow on the side of the road, you sped up just a few inches closer to my bumper. It's nice to see that you have a sense of humor, but if I need to hit the brakes, for any reason, we're both going to die in a horrible car accident and that's not cool.

Whatever the reason, please back the fuck off so I can mellow out and listen to my Smodcast in peace.

Sincerely (I mean it. Back the fuck off),

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