Dear Fellow Drivers,

To the only person on Earth, who I offended with my very presence in the Rite-Aid car park, do not blow your horn at me unless you are about to collide with me. The space was mine, if only because my car is purple and your monstrosity is colorless. Yeah, that's right, I'm callin' white a non-color, you wanna yell at me some more? It is my dearest hope that in the coming year, your microscopic excuse for manhood falls off as you're driving and everyone behind you blows their horns and curses at you as you search for it in vain. I will allow that pulling up so close to my bumper that I couldn't read your plate number was a good move on your part.

To the ambulette driver who used up all the adrenaline intended for the patients that were not even in the vehicle at the time and then got on the loudspeaker to tell me to move as I was waiting at a stop sign for the oncoming traffic to pass, you need to lose your voice. It does wonders for the mind, I've found.

To whatever was behind me on the corner near the bus stop, did you enjoy your 10-foot trip to the next red light? I hope you did, I know I would have had I not been trying to determine if there were others like you lurking behind the three buses.

To the blue car that backed up nicely to let me leave the spot five other cars of non-descript colors coveted, thank you. You are the sort of human Geggy Tah wrote songs about. I wish there were more of you out there.

Dear Fellow Drivers,