A letter that isn't likely to be read, because I can't get to sleep

Dear whoever it was in front of me who really, truly wanted to go to Olive Garden,

I know how it is. Man, those breadsticks are fucking tasty. However, sometimes we all forget that the turn is coming up, and it's just unfortunate when you're starved for chewy Italian goodness, but you just have to keep going, make a couple of Michigan lefts, and try again with your head out of the clouds this time. It is not acceptable to decide you can take the turn if you just, you know, slam on your brakes and hope that the person behind you is paying attention.

I wasn't even the person behind you. I was the person three cars behind you, and luckily for me, I was listening when my driving instructor, my mother, my father, and Click and Clack told me about maintaining reasonable distances from the driver in front of me.

However, the recent drivers-ed graduates behind me hadn't had this drilled into their head yet.

Now, everyone was okay, and hell, there wasn't even any noticeable damage to my rear bumper, and I just had a ridiculous series of moments where I was thinking "Sweet I'm not going to hit the guy in front of me," glancing in my rear view mirror, and thinking "Wait maybe I am going to still." But it could have been worse, all because of your impatience for having a swarthy man point a peppergrinder in your face.

In summation, please try to take others in consideration when you're on the warpath for some parmesan goodness, douchebag.

-Sasha

Dear car-full of sixteen year olds,

Driving is, as we have just covered, a bit on the stressful side. You're just learning and it looked like you were still new to not having an adult in the car with you.

In the future, please keep in mind; at least one hand on the wheel at all times. I would've hated to tell the policeman that I saw you using both hands to light your cigarette when you should've been paying attention to what was going on ahead of you, or, you know, steering your car. Speaking of which, seriously. Knock that shit out already. I don't mean to sound like a PSA, but smoking is gross and makes you gross by association.

On the other hand, I'm glad you're okay, that your car was okay, that we were all okay, and I do appreciate your complimenting my pants. It was somewhat flattering to know that, even in a full-on panic attack, you could take time to check out my ass.

-Sasha