Sunday, 20 February 2011

An open letter to the cock on the motorway



Dear Cock,

I was behind you tonight on the M6. It was pitch black and out in the middle of nowhere, with a light rain falling.
Ahead of me was an expanse of road and darkness, dotted with various auto mobiles, including you.
I was driving along at some miles an hour, in the inside lane, where I should be. You were just ahead of me and there was a truck in the distance. I assumed you were probably going to want to pull out to overtake, but as you weren't going all that fast and were still reasonably far away from the truck, I figured I had plenty of time to go past you safely.

Once the guy overtaking me had gone past, I pulled out to overtake you. There was still loads of time; I'd planned well in advance. It was at this moment you decided to pull out to overtake the truck, which would have been fine had you bothered to indicate. Instead, you thought it was appropriate to sort of drift out into the middle lane, meaning I had to swerve into the outside lane to avoid you. Slamming on the brakes was not an option, as sharp, high speed braking on a wet road next to a cliff is a recipe for death.

Luckily, it was fairly quiet on the road and there was nobody in the outside lane. I had checked my mirror before swerving, to be sure. If there had been another car there, I would probably have slammed on and taken my chances. The last thing I would want to do is put another motorist in the position you put me in.

I don't know exactly what kind of car you were driving, as it was dark and I was too busy not crashing into you, but it was silver and probably a Ford Mondeo. After I managed to get past you alive, I flashed my indicators at you, hoping I might remind you that those yellow flashy things on the side of your car are not just fucking decoration. If I hadn't been paying attention, we would probably have both ended up at the bottom of a Scottish valley in a twisted pile of metal.

I hope you noticed. I hope you realised what you did. I hope you had that sick-to-your-stomach, shaky-knee feeling. I hope it makes you think more in the future. However, I fear that's wishful thinking and it's far more likely that you didn't even notice. You will probably go on being an oblivious cunt until you kill somebody. Maybe then you'll learn.

There were several idiots on my long journey home this evening and you were by far the worst. I hope I have the good fortune to never encounter you on the road again.

Yours faithfully,

FwF

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