Commute

To the driver in front of me:

I'm guessing you feel proud of that swollen SUV you're driving, as you serenely proceed down the freeway at five miles under the speed limit, in the passing lane.  You probably feel quite studly as you talk on your cell phone, elbow propped casually on the armrest, wearing your crisp blue and white striped shirt with white collar and unfastened French cuffs.

The truth?  You look like a douche.  Pull over.

This has been a public service message from The Grumpy Commuter.