Rarely cruising, but frequently Bruising...

I am an aggressive tailgater in Vermont.

In a Ryder truck.

I'm an asshole.


I knew none of this. Simmers told me, said Ryder got a call from someone in between Burlington and Stratton, saying that this asshole in a Ryder truck was being an asshole tailgater. No joke, he said. No joke at all.

Who made that call? I don't remember driving aggressively at all and if anything, was maybe a little tenacious going on 7, through those first few towns outside of Burlington. But I thought I adapted and eventually started driving in more of a leisurely country style, as opposed to my slangin' city style driving- get there, do it, do it now & do what you have too. Not up in Vermont though, the pace is dragging and pedestrian and a mile or two went by and I didn't even notice. The cars in front of me drove as if they had no place to go, no place to be. Cruising on a cruising afternoon.

Can't piss off the Park Crew, brah. Not on the first day.

So I wanted to get there and I wanted to stop bouncing in the seat and I wanted to stop thinking about ex-girlfriends, wondering if one of them maybe served as the template for what exactly I was looking for or maybe bits and pieces of a few of them was what I wanted. Does missing one girl more than the rest mean she is more special or that she is the uber-lady?

You would maybe be driving a little faster than most thinking those kind of thoughts.

The bumps were huge divots and empty crevasses carved out by glaciers or snow plows. A few plows on the side of the road, on sale cheap. You can buy a bus if you want. But still, there is rarely an excuse for being an asshole and I don't believe I was one or was driving like one. I just wish though, that whoever called Ryder, the only Ryder truck rental in Vermont, to complain about me, had flagged me down instead, on that day, when I was tailgating like an asshole and maybe flicked the finger or gave me a dirty look. That would have worked fine. I'm a very self-conscious driver. I never want to be that driver, the one who other drivers despise and have to abruptly change lanes for because dudes coming up hot. So if this person, this laid back Vermonter, would have just had the common decency to give me the goddamn finger then, I would be perfectly fine now.

But I keep thinking about it, about that person who was so pissed off by my driving that they went home, looked up the number for Ryder, and called the hippie dude answering phones there, to narc me out. Maybe I'm the talk of whatever town that was in or the dude was from and now, whenever a Ryder truck rumbles down Route 7, everyone hark ens back to that asshole tailgater a couple months back. Or years back! This could last forever.

This isn't going to change how I drive.

It also won't change how I over analyze past relationships.

And it won't by any means put a few bucks in my pocket or a few beers in the fridge.

All it will do is frustrate me during the slow times and make me think twice next time I do drive a rental truck.

Think: is this a small state or a big state? Cause if it's a small state, busted dude. No questions asked.

Go to the city, find your dreams, drive like you want, and make it home for summer. Stay out of the country, find people with a to-do list. Take the highways, duck the back roads, and with a little luck, always make it there before sunset.

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