WHAT THE HELLZA MATTER WITH YOU?
Massachusetts drivers suck, but I think Boston drivers are the worst.
In the suburbs it's a matter of old and young and the people who just don't
give a shit.
The old guy with the hat, driving the Buick. He has no idea what is around
him, or maybe he just doesn't care. He's listening to " The Music Of Our
Lives," on his a.m. radio, on his way to Bickford's, with his white belt on, and
he's not to hurry up for anybody. He's going to go 5 miles an hour. Horns
beep. "The hell with them! Let 'em go around me!" He is very relaxed
listening to "Love Is Blue," with The Herald next to him, on the seat.
"SUNZA BITCHES!" He mutters, "Go around me!"
Or you could meet up with his female counterpart, "The Q-Tip, or The Blue
Head."
Unlike the guy with the hat, who could care less about the other drivers on
the road,
"The Q-Tip," and the "Blue Head" are worried about EVERYTHING, driving in
a heightened state of terror and paranoia.
"Oh my God! How all we to make it through this intersection? Maybe we
should sit here all day?
Then they go down to the Stop & Shop and stand in front of the butter,
smacking their lips and toungue-juggling their dentures.
On the other side of the spectrum you have the punk kid.
The good thing about the punk kid is that you can usually hear him coming for
about a quarter of a mile away because of the 18 inch sub woofer thundering
from the back of his car.
The car is worth $300, but he's ivested $1200 into the stereo.
You can actually hear the fender's rattle on the guy's car.
It's a good thing you can hear him coming too, because is going about 1000
mph.
I always wonder, "If it's that loud OUTSIDE the car, how you can even stand
to be inside?"
All that bass, -- it has to affect your bowels!
Sometimes there are four or five other punks in the car, and they're weaving
in and out of traffic at insane speeds with that bass thumpin'.
They have to drive that way, because all five of them have to get somewhere
quick to take a shit.
BOM-BOOM, CHA! BUMBABOOM-CHA! ..."OOH! Hurry Dude, I'm gonna
FUDGE!
If they'd just turn the bass down they could drive like normal people, instead
of risking a vehicular Brown-Out.
Then of course there's the "Soccer Mom," in the giant SUV.
She's about 5 foot two, and she's driving a monster truck from "Land of the
Giants."
This truck was designed to transport troops.
Either she's totally oblivious to all that is around her, or beneath her, or she
just doesn't care.
She's on the cell phone, she's smoking a cigarette and she's doing her
make-up at the same time.
She couldn't care less about you. You don't exist.
Pull out in front of her and she's gonna T-bone you for being a wise guy.
She will not back down for anything. And why should she? She knows she
can crush you like a bug.
How DARE you annoy her on her way to the hair salon?
Sometimes it all comes together:
At the 4 way intersection in front of my house.
The Q-tips are parking in the middle, worrying.
The soccer mom and her assault vehicle moving in for the challenge, she
honks because she's missing Oprah.
The old guy with the hat in the Oldsmobile is coming the other way going 5
mph, listening to Andy Williams singing "Moon River",
... and then in the distance you hear that bass. Horns beep.
Get out of the way! Everybody in that car has to take a shit!
...and there I am, bending over to pick up those three hundred scratch tickets
some chain-smoking loser bastards threw on my lawn, I grunt, I fart, horns
beep, I shake my fist. Standing on my front lawn, I tell them,
"WHAT THE HELLZA MATTER WITH YOU!"