In a perfect world
I would never be required, on my way to work, to scream “It’s the fast lane! GO FAST!” or “Oh, weas it my headlights as I was passing you that allowed you to finally FIND YOUR ACCELERATOR?” or even the ubiquitous “HANG UP AND DRIVE”
Alas, we do not live in a perfect world.
Comes the revolution, however, you know who I’mna be targeting first.
Slow drivers with Øbama bumperstickers. That’s who I’mna targeting. Easier to push them off the road with the Escape than the Intrepid, God rest her soul.
I feel your pain. In my world, warning shots would be allowed. One or two the trunk might be encouraging.
Ever been in a vehicle hit by gunfire? All I heard was a godawful loud clang. No way of knowing where it came from or what it was. Didn’t even find the bullet hole for a week.
It’s also the reason I carry a cheap old rusty bolt action .30-30 and some ammo in the back of the car and a $50 Yugoslav m24 Mauser with 20 rounds of 170 gr softpoints in stripper clips and a short barrelled pump 12 ga in my camper. If some dumbass shoots at me again and I can figure out where he is, I’ll struggle manfully to make the remainder of his life “exciting”. I’ve found one of the features of being 67 is that I’m no longer nearly as afraid of death or being arrested as I was at 35 and I’m about a hundred times easier to really get pissed off. And when I get like that I really do want to see some shithead bleed. Copiously. The missus says I’m beginning to get pretty damn cranky these days. I think she’s trying to wean me off real coffee and replace it with decaf. That’s enough to piss off the Pope, right there.
Anyways, Og thanks for letting me rant, I feel a lot better now.