  I've got a bone to pick. I was driving to my sister's house in Sulphur last night to eat some fine home cooking. I had a pretty decent day at the office, bought a new cd, and was in a generally good mood. Until at some point south of Norman on I-35, a blinding light filled my rear-view mirror. Surely, I thought, someone has accidentally put their high beams on, and isn't meaning to fill the cockpit of my car with eye blinking brightness. I figured after a couple of minutes, someone would flash their lights at him, and he would return his high-beams to low, and all would be cheery again. I was sadly mistaken. As the truck got closer, and the light even more blinding, I could see that it wasn't someone with their high beams on, it was some redneck bastard in his jacked-up pickup truck.
I'm from Oklahoma, I used to own a 4X4 (Jeep), and I like trucks. But I don't like these jacked-up monstrousities that have their headlights lined even with my rear-view mirror. I couldn't see. So I sped up, thinking if I got further down the road the light would be less. But the asshole sped up to, keeping behind me. Now, if I was a toothless redneck, I might have nothing better to do than drive behind someone minding their own business, looking at the reflection of my lights in their mirrors.
But I was starting to get pissed. And only because this stereotypical redneck fucker was doing this on purpose. So I slowed down, and let him pass me. Of course it was as I expected, and when he passed me I was met with the blaring noise of a diesel motor that was being piped through some home-made creation of an exhaust pipe. You know, those huge ass pipes you can buy at AutoZone and bolt on yourself. Only this one appeared to have some holes drilled in it, making it even louder.
After my hearing returned, he changed lanes back into mine, on the right. Which is proper highway etiquette. Then I was met with perhaps the worst thing ever. Worse than the A-Bomb, worse than KFC fucking up my order, worse than an MVA victim with massive head injuries and a respiration rate of 5. The dreaded shiny chrome rear bumper! Why in the fuck would you want a bumper you can see yourself in?
And of course, IT'S AT THE SAME LEVEL AS MY HEADLIGHTS! So now I am being blinded by my own headlights. I could feel the anger building up in me. I was pretty sure I was about to black out, only to regain consciousness in a pile of redneck blood with no memory of what happened. So, being the insurance agent, medic, and young professional that I am, I took the next exit and sat there for a good 10 minutes, calming down.
I'm better now. But mark my words. Billy Bob, if I have to deal with your shit again, it's going to be real bad for you. Real bad. I'll make you take a shower, go to a dentist, and I'll take you to (gasp) Express for Men and make you wear clothes that don't rhyme with Strangler. Watch your back. 
