Saturday, I got to talk to my sister in New York. Among other incendiary topics, we discussed our  husbands and their driving habits. You see both our spouses are from NYC (different burroughs) and they have one habit in particular in common.

They’re both very aggressive drivers. Which is a nice way of saying they like to tail gate. Sure, everyone tailgates, usually when someone cuts you off.

My husband takes it to an art form. Such that he had to disable the brakes on the passenger side of the car (or they just wore out, I’m not sure which). I’m sure I got my white hair from him, although I reserve the right to change my mind about that since I have children.

He says he follows close behind to urge the person in front to go faster. I have to remind him that that space cushion around our vehicle isn’t full of padding or an extended bumpers.

If you don’t understand what I mean, perhaps Disney can explain it best:

And now for the oops part. You see, when the space cushion fails to accomplish the desired result, you should be able to shoot the offender and if perhaps they’re not the slow-poke but the car in front is, he should get an oops card. He’s certain any cop would understand if they saw what he did.

Alas, our continued conversation disabused us of the notion that such mentality was limited to New Yorkers. You see, she wanted a hand gun. I want a rocket launcher. My way is a bit more efficient.