The 118…
The 101….
The 405…
I’m back. I missed you! Did you miss me? Sorry for the absence. Shit happens. Specifically, shit like [redacted]. But anyhooptie. We come here not to mourn [redacted], but to bitch about driving.
A few months back, before said shit hit proverbial fan (okay, okay, no more mention of said shit. Scout’s honor), I was driving home, past the dreaded, one-two donkey punch of Cedar-Sinai and the Beverly Center. At San Vicente, I’m a car or two behind the crosswalk. So close and yet so close to the clog at La Cienega.
Then I hear someone yelling “Hey!” from on high. I don’t think God’s paying any attention to me so, huh? I look up through my open sunroof. It’s the bus. Rather, it’s the bus driver, yes yelling at me through my sunroof. He wants me to move up, so he can turn right.
“Where am I supposed to move up to, exactly? The person in front of me’s bumper? There’s nowhere to go, dude.”
As are bus drivers’ wont, he proceeds to eek around me / plow through the back end of my car (again. I’ll tell you about that later.) Thankfully, no cars were hurt during the filming of this jackass move.
He also called me a bitch as he passed. Nice insult. Very original.
Incidentally, he was in an all-fired hurry to get, not to the next stop, but to the RESTING ZONE*. He was late for his break. Fuck you, guy.
*I don’t know the actual name of where buses stop so the drivers can smoke and stretch their legs and snack, but in seeking the nomenclature I did learn about this. Fake bus stops? Sure.

Ugh. Why you gotta throw down a challenge like that at 8:37AM?
Let me guess. You also

People like you make me Charlie Brown. Gross. Now move, I’d like to be to work on time.
Confidential to the gigantic Hummer cutting across 2 lanes of traffic on Hollywood to make a left on Highland at 6PM when maybe 2-3 cars will get through the intersection on the arrow, proudly cock-blocking my lane, my escape route, and all the poor jerks behind you who managed to get into said left-turn lane when appropriate and legal and not a burden upon everyone else on the road:
Dear Prius Drivers,
Hi. How are you? I’m doing pretty well, thanks for asking. May I ask you something? Neat. Okay. So, is your car the Pinto for the ’00s? I mean, that’s the only possible explanation I can come up with as to why every single one of you drives with at least two car lengths between yourself and the car in front of you (not to mention driving on an average of 5 MPH slower than the posted speed limit and/or flow of traffic.)
You do know your car isn’t going to explode upon the slightest impact, right? Just because it’s unicorn-magically saving the planet, one 1.3-mile round trip to Whole Foods at a time, doesn’t mean it was engineered to kill you in a bitter reversal of gratitude for your do-gooding.
So please, catch up. Because I’m late for work again and you are driving me mad.
Many thanks, Taryn





