I've taken up bike riding.

Lately I’ve become a very aggressive driver. Well, by “lately” I mean starting yesterday. It was raining, you see, and since people don’t know how to drive in the rain, the traffic is insane and makes me hate people.

Thirty-five minutes into a drive that should have only taken seven minutes, there’s this lady trying to merge into the long row of cars behind me. I’m watching her from my rear-view mirror, and although the traffic is at a dead stop, she’s driving really slowly on the shoulder, with her blinker on, stopping at every car and waiting. Well, lady, space is not going to magically appear for you to fit your huge grocery-getter into, so just be patient for the love of all that is good and holy.

But no.

She continues to drive up to every car. Pause. And wait for someone to let her in, even though no one is moving.

She starts to get angry, I can tell, and then the traffic starts moving. She is now next to me, thinking that I’m the nice person that is going to let her sorry ass in. Ha! Nope. That’s not me. So I didn’t let her in.

Cars start driving at the insane speed limit of 10, and she finally merges in behind me. But not without protest. She laid on her horn (so I did, too) and definitely got really heated about not being that one car length ahead. After about fifteen minutes, we are back up to about 40 miles per hour, because everyone has to stop and stare at the stupid fender bender on the side of the highway like they are the paparazzi or something.

Crazy lady merges into the lane beside me and inches up beside me. I look over, fully prepared to receive the one-finger salute. But, alas, no salute.

I got something better. Or worse. Depends on how you look at it.

I see the passenger window roll down.

Hand emerges from window.

I look away briefly. You know, since I’m a responsible driver, keeping my eyes on the road at all times.

And it hits me.

A milkshake.

The triple thick ones from McDonalds (I saw the cup as it went flying over the windshield.)

The next second went by like an eternity. Thoughts went racing through my head of things I could have done as revenge, but I didn’t. I restrained myself. Probably the first time that has ever happened, but I did. Instead, I exited the highway because I really needed to get gas anyway.

Did I mention it was raining? Have you ever seen someone squeegee their windows at a gas station in the rain? Well tons of people did on this day and, boy, did they have interesting looks on their faces.

I can’t make this crap up, people.

My husband was quite amused at my story. But he was more amused at the fact that someone would waste a perfectly good milkshake on me. I mean, why not just take the 3 dollars or whatever you spent on it and throw that? I could have easily found something to do with the money. Like buy the crazy lady some class. And judging by the look of her jalopy, one could easily assume that she either scraped the change from the floor of her car or used her EBT card to buy that bleeping milkshake. Considering the neighborhood I was in, also, my husband said he was surprised that she didn’t throw a kid at me. But, I’m not. Because that would mean she would miss out on that child support check.

Plus, she should have picked a different day, when it’s not pouring down rain, to make such a mess. Because if it weren’t for my windshield wipers smearing the stuff all over, I really didn’t have much to clean up. The rain did most of the work.

Oh, and did I mention it was strawberry? Not my favorite anyway.