Dear fuckhead,
I’m not sorry for flipping you off.
Yeah I’m talking to you, guy in the Porsche SUV who drives – or should that be drove? – like an idiot around our neighborhood. I’m not sorry for flipping you off.
I was already doing 30 in a 20 when you came up and started tailgating me, egging me on to break the law. We’re not all speed-demon outlaws, sir, and I won’t stoop to your level. I’m not sorry for reducing my speed to 10 in response.
There are kids playing in the neighborhood, and you have the nerve to drive that recklessly? What happens if you hit one of my kids and I don’t take any action? How would I feel? Now, granted I don’t actually have kids, but that’s not the point. You needed to be told. I’m not sorry for flipping you off.
I can picture you clearly in my head; you’re a balding, fat guy in his forties who drives angrily for emotional support. You wish that you could cry but you can’t, so you have to drive fast to feel anything at all. You didn’t realize how married life and raising children could make you so miserable. You thought you would have made more of yourself by this age, rather than being a middle manager in a soulless corporation. It’s not my fault that you sit in your car for five minutes of silent reluctance before driving home, and I’m not sorry that I flipped you off.
I’m not sorry for keeping you stuck behind me for fifteen minutes whilst I crawled along. I’m not sorry for the people stuck behind you, either. You did this to them, not me. I don’t care where you were headed to, I don’t care how urgent what you were doing was, and I don’t even care if you were transporting a medical emergency to the hospital. Sometimes, people have to die for the greater good. I’m not sorry for flipping you off.
I’m not sorry for not warning you about the oncoming traffic when you began to overtake me. I don’t communicate with terrorists, sir, and the karmic machinations of the universe must be respected. How hubristic it would be of me to think I know better than the universe. I’m not sorry for flipping you off.
I am sorry for the guy in the other car. That’s why I didn’t flip him off after you crashed. I could tell he wasn’t hurt, and I saw he had a dashcam up. It’s clearly your fault, so he should be fine. I like that guy. I’d like to have a beer with that guy.
I’m not sorry for stopping next to your car after the crash. I’m not sorry for flipping you off there, and I’m not sorry for spitting on you from my car window. I’m not sorry for rubbing salt in the wounds. Maybe next time you’ll think before making a five-second mistake whilst driving. I am sorry for crashing into a streetlight as I tried to speed off. But I’m not sorry for flipping you off.
– Frankie