Little Miss Road Rage

I'm home, after driving back from Anthocon through Boston. I detest city driving. Especially the morons that turn their blinkers on AFTER they have already cut you off going 80 miles per hour in a 60 zone, skidding in between your vehicle and the minivan in front of you, just missing grazing both by a whisper and a prayer. I, of course, got to flex and expand my vocabulary muscles by stringing together a slew of curse words that have not been arranged in that order or quantity for neigh on twenty years. A mushroom cloud of death and destruction still lingers in the air just above the southbound tunnel exit in the city. May it rain flat tires and moving violations on the demented drivers out there! Road rage? I think not. Although the idea of putting a cow catcher on the front of a large, fully-equipped military vehicle and blowing through traffic on a rampage does occasionally pop up in red-tinged day dreams, especially during summer traffic down here. A rocket launcher has also played a large and prominent role in some of the slightly over-the-top driving moments. Perhaps I should lay off the caffeine for a while.