Compelled to write something...

I saw a squirrel killed yesterday morning. It really bugged me out a bit. I was driving to the office, and from a distance, could see it caught in between traffic. It was frantically trying to escape the thundering wheels of cars coming from both directions. The worst part about this, is that as there was a slight lapse in one way's traffic, which would have enabled it to cross ok, it faltered. It didn't move at all, and then seemed to slowly creep across the street. Some asshole in a huge Ford had ample time to see it and slow down. When I say ample time, I mean, like at least 6 or 7 seconds...maybe even 20 meters of space between him and the squirrel. There is no conceivable way that this guy could not have seen the squirrel. It's impossible.
I figured he'd stop and the squirrel would know to continue passage across the road, but this jerk actually didn't let up at all. The squirrel narrowly dodged the full surface of the wheel, but bumped into the side of the tire. It stopped, and for a moment looked ok, then began to writhe in agony. This really bothered me. This feeling quickly turned to anger, and for a moment, I was bent on turning my car around, and pursuing the murderous driver. I had no real idea as to what I'd say to him...the concept of demanding an explanation as to why he killed the squirrel was kind of ridiuculous, especially since there was a possibility that he didn't see it, and that things could get ugly. The last thing I needed yesterday morning was a swift tire iron to my face, with some beefy construction guy who may just be on his way to work himself. I continued my trek to the office, and then began to think of another instance that occured involving an insane driver. This time, it was a different story. I was in the car with Olivia.

Before I explain, I'll be the first to admit that I've had my fair share of driving issues. I have a bad tendency to take my time in the fast lane, only going an extra 10 kilometers per hour in most cases, over the speed limit. Some guy in a gigantic construction truck, the kind with what looks to be 4 sets of tires for the rear wheels, and the kind that has lettering on the sides of the behemoth saying stuff like "Diesel" or "Super Max", begins tailing me, and honking and making a big fuss. He then pulls up beside me, and begins blaring his horn all over the place. He finishes his expletives, and then fires off past us. Suddenly, not a few feet in front of us, a red light. Moments later we are perfectly beside this guy, who just finished reading me the riot act for driving too slow in the fast lane. I didn't even notice the windows roll down in our car, but I did see this jerk rolling down his. Literally before I had a chance to say anything, Olivia began fitting this man with a brand new asshole. An exchange of expletives occured, this time coming to a full force. Olivia caught this guy so off guard, that he was stammering for the words to restore his status as "wheelman", but was unsuccessful. Left right and center, she was breaking him down. He eventually gave up, and sped off. We were pretty sure he was drunk, as everything sounded like he was taking heaving breaths in between the sentences. After being berated by Liv, he drove off in a fuss and huff, and I proceeded to drive my lady to a baby shower.