Airbag Industries

Dear Miss Daisy.

To the stupid, sometimes old, woman who keeps pulling out in front of me with your Saturn, Oldsmobile, Lincoln, BMW or Mercedes:

I travel fast. Not so fast to be considered a street racer but I definitely do not take it slow, except in School Zones, of course.

Your God given ability of depth perception should indicate to you that I am traveling faster than a boy pulling a wagon or the nice man who drives the Pleasant Hills Courtesy Van on shopping day.

Think Days of Thunder fast.

This is why you need to quit glancing around – as if you don’t understand the mechanics of your iron-horse – and pull right out in front of me.

California law requires that you stop and look in both directions before you pull out and in front of traffic. This includes the European Racing Green Jetta that I drive.

I know you’re not paying attention because I have seen you pull up to the road and without stopping simply make a right turn. The look on your face tells me that you’re dreaming of a new sewing machine, cake reciepe, or David Hasselhof.

This is where, in our past encounters, I hit the horn, swerve hard, and motion to you with my hands and fingers. Between the car horn-Morse-Code and my excellent non-verbal communication – ala sign language – it should be clear to you by now that what you just did is not acceptable!

Knock if off.

Otherwise I will go down to the Ford dealer and trade my Jetta for an Excursion, the biggest, heaviest, and longest consumer vehicle available. Then I’ll call Mr. T and have him convert my SUV into the ultimate ramming machine — made of parts from Star Wars action figures, Bisquick Pancake Mix, a bed mattress, and compressed air tanks.

Then, dear madam, I’ll have only one more thing to say to you: Don’t mess with me lady, cause I’m gonna take you out sucka.