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I have a very long commute. It’s around 38 miles one-way, and depending on the day, the weather, and the time of departure, I’m looking at around an hour in the car. I cope by listening to a lot of audio books and podcasts, and it’s generally a happy time, unless it’s raining or there’s a car fire.

Seriously, that was yesterday morning. It took me two hours to get to work, and ran my collection of podcasts to dangerously low levels for the week. It happens…no big deal. Some days you’re the bug, and all that. Today was a bit of an odd one though, and it’s got me wondering just what in the hell happens in my brain sometimes. Traffic was fine, and I’m listening to the first book in the Sookie Stackhouse series (the series of books that "True Blood" is based off of.)

There are two exits I can get off at, and which one I choose is completely time dependent. If I’m doing good on time, I exit early and go by Starbuck’s. If not, I go a mile further and take the direct route to my office. This morning I was doing great on time, so I decided to get  some coffee.

OK, bear with me, the set-up is necessary…

So, the exit becomes a three-lane exit. The two left lanes are for turning left, and there’s a separate lane for turning right. The lane for turning right leads into a short right turn lane off the exit with about twenty yards of solid white line. There is a yield sign, which seems redundant with the solid white line, for those exiting the interstate. I usually check the oncoming traffic and then turn right (well, whip through is a better way to put it) onto the main road. There’s rarely anyone coming, so my biggest concern is getting across three lanes into the turn lane to the development where Starbuck’s is.

This morning, there happened to be a guy in a minivan coming through, and he was trying to cut across the white line, while I was trying to ignore the yield sign. So, we were BOTH in the wrong, as far as technicalities go. No biggie, right? Horns blow, fingers hit the air, and we go on about our business. That’s how that usually plays out. Not this morning.

This morning, we had ESCALATION!!!!

The guy got in behind me and flipped me off, I raised my arms in the universal "What the fuck?" gesture, and we started yelling at each other. Yeah – two grown men, in our cars, where neither one can hear the other. That’s intelligent AND effective, right? And then it got really interesting. He motioned to the side of the road while still flipping me off and yelling, and then screeched into a parking lot. I slammed on my breaks and tore back through the parking lot only to realize that I couldn’t get to where he was.

Yeah, I seriously went back with the intention of getting to the guy and…what? What was I thinking was going to happen?

Let me say, for the record, that I hate confrontation. I cannot stand it, because generally it solves nothing and more often than not makes matters worse. Let me also say that despite the fact that I’m 6′1 and 245 pounds…I’m also a guy that sits at a desk all day long banging on the keyboard and making funny over coffee and doughnuts. I’m not exactly training for the UFC here, ya know? I take (/have taken/will take again) karate, and I am fairly fast and have good reflexes…but this dude might be someone who gets into bar fights on weekends for fun. So, again, what the hell was going through my tiny little mind right then?

Anyway, it ended up ok. I got into an adjacent parking lot, we yelled at each other (he called me a jerk off, I called him a fucking moron, we quoted road rules to each other), and I drove off to get my coffee.

I’ve got to start keeping a lid on my temper though – that kind of Mickey Mouse shit is going to get me in trouble one day.

That’s what I want to know from you. Yes, you. The idiot in the Chevy Suburban that I was following this morning. Don’t you understand the fundamentals of driving in an urban environment?

For those of you who don’t let me provide my own little top ten list. From the home office in Sugar Hill, Ga.

Newman’s Top 10 List of Things that will make you a better driver

1. Since you obviously can’t do more than one thing at a time, hang up your damn cell phone and drive your car.
2. When you are driving 5 miles under the speed limit in rush hour on a two lane road, and the roads turns into a four lane, GET IN THE RIGHT-HAND LANE. You are slow. You are impeding my progress, as well as the 50 cars lined up behind me waiting on your slow ass.
3. If you see a large green SUV coming at you at high speed, I encourage you to try to make that turn in your Yugo. This won’t make you a better driver, but it will take you out of the gene pool.
4. Suburban house wives take note: The fact that hubby can afford a land mass with wheels doesn’t mean that you can drive one. If you’re a crappy driver in a Honda Civic, you’re only going to imperil other drivers when you get behind the wheel of a truly destructive machine.
5. Pay attention to the traffic light. When it turns green, you’d better be moving.
6. No, really. I can see you picking your nose. (It doesn’t have anything to do with your driving ability, but it does make you look stupid.)
7. Hey! You idiot kid! Stop trying to race me in your Geo Metro, and start learning how to drive. Turn the radio down too. Your music sucks to everyone but you.
8. Understand that if it were not for nimrods like you, there would be no traffic.
9. Rubbernecking an accident makes traffic go slower. If you’d just understand that, your life would improve ten-fold.
10. Understand that I probably drive better then you. Get out of my way, and try not to be surprised when I cut you off or go around you. It’s because you are stupid.

Now, having said that, I have to harken back to the wise words of…well, of someone.

"The one thing that all human beings share, without regard to class, race, or religion, is that we each think we’re better drivers than we actually are."

I think I am an exceptional driver. At high speeds or tricky manuevers, I’m convinced that I’m the love child of James Bond and Mario Andretti. My father, who IS an exceptional driver, is convinced that I cannot drive anything more complicated than a tricycle. The truth probably falls somewhere in the middle, which makes me an above-average driver.

So I feel qualified to point out your shortcomings. I’m not talking to everyone here, just the idiots. And you know who you are. You drive 45 in a 50 zone. You drive in the left-hand land on the interstate at less than 75 miles an hour. You back into parking spaces, and straddle the line in the attempt. You know who you are.

And you’ve got to stop it. Really. Like now.