I shake my fist at you, minivan

A blue minivan was the first to trigger my smug reflex.  I knew she was going to do it the minute I saw her.  And not only did she turn into the third lane from the left from the far left lane, but she was poking around under her seat or something while we waited for the light.  Who knows what she might have been looking for?  A pound and a half of pot she grabbed from Willie Nelson, probably.  Or an assault rifle.

But she got hers.  I honked at her as she cut me off.  She’ll think twice about doing that again, I assure you.

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