an open letter to...

Dear Idaho Driver who ran me off the road in March 2008:

You van-ed me. You straight up van-ed me.

This is what you did to me: "Van-ed (v., past tense): to be inconvenienced on the road by a person in a minivan or larger van; this may include bodily psychological, or emotional harm often leading to feelings of rage and discomfort. Vanning most often occurs while you are in a hurry, or when those driving the minivan deem it necessary to assert themselves as imcompetent rulers of the road."

Like most of the driver's of minivans (i say most as not to offend), you decided it would be a perfect time to go five miles under the speed limit in the lefthand lane on Highway 395 on the way through the Tri-Cities. I was on your tail, yes: I was on your tail because of your apparent lack of knowledge of highway driving rules. The signs are everywhere, "Slower Traffic Keep to Right." You were the slower traffic, therefore you should be in the right hand lane. We were the only two cars on the road. Seems simple enough.

But no, driver-of-teal-Safari-minivan-with-Idaho-plates, you did not follow the rules. What was I supposed to do? Wait another five miles on your tail and hope that you will notice there was someone on your tail?...My outlook was looking grim to say the least. So I decided to take matters into my own hands and move into the righthand lane in order to speed around you. Chances were probable that you were not going to move into the righthand lane, so I made the decision and stuck with it. This decision, mind you, was made as my rage toward you as a minivan driver finally seeped to the surface and came out verbally as a couple of choice swear words. I wish you could've heard me.

Mostly though, I wish you could've seen me. It must've been too much to look in your rearview mirror, it must have been too much effort to turn your head to the right and look behind your shoulder to see if anyone was in the other lane. You must've been swatting a child, changing the radio station. Perhaps you were picking up Goldfish that were strewn about the interior of your car by an angered toddler.

You don't even know that you made me slam on my brakes, do a 360 on the road and end up thankfully in one piece in a ditch on the side of the highway. You were too busy with the above tasks. You just drove away, drove away in your VAN, leaving me with a busted car, a condescending police officer (there is no other kind) and a 124 dollar ticket for "Driving with my wheels off the roadway." You're swell.

Concisely put, it is this, terrible epitomizing van-driver: I don't wish you harm. I'm gald I'm alive, and I truly hope that you are happy being an ignorant and terrible driver. I hope nothing remotely close to my accident happens to you, because I'm not that type of person.

But, karma's a bitch.

Sincerely,
Sarah Weakley (proud Civic driver)