It’s Monday and I haven’t had my coffee.

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“Wait!” I hear you cry, “Didn’t you write about  idiotic drivers a few weeks ago? Are you too lazy to come up with new material? Have you run dry so soon?”

Fair questions, Dear Reader, but I see a distinction between an idiot driver and a dangerous driver.

The idiotic driver has the ability to change, given proper instruction and negative reinforcement motivation.

A dangerous driver, on the other hand, should quite literally not be allowed to possess a license.

Consider this experience:

I was driving to the store the other day to pick up lunch and some medication for a splitting headache most likely brought on by a sugar high and the subsequent crash (I regret nothing) when I noticed a car driving erratically.

By erratically, I mean the car was driving such that the white line dividing two lanes of traffic flowing in the same direction perfectly bisected the vehicle.

OK, that may have been a bit technical, but I couldn’t think of a way to describe it that wouldn’t result in confusion and/or the wrong image in one’s mind.

Is everyone clear? Any questions to this point?

All right then, moving on.

Not only was this car blocking two lanes of traffic, it was also traveling approximately thirty miles per hour under the speed limit; remember: this is on a busy thoroughfare.

Fun fact: as of 1 January, it is illegal in our state to impede the flow of traffic, even if one is impeding traffic by going the actual, posted speed limit.

Yes, one can be fined for obeying the law if everyone around you is breaking it. I can only imagine what this driver would face.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, the car.

The driver finally turned off the road; unfortunately, he appeared headed toward the same restaurant I wished to patronize.

He entered the nearest entrance, once again taking up both lanes – in this case the enter lane and the exit/turn lane, nearly hitting another patron’s car head-on.

Since he was going even slower than before, I went to the second entrance and approached the order kiosk thingy. As I placed my order, said driver pulled around me and nearly took off my front fender as he merged into the drive-through lane and stopped at the window.

I heard this over the intercom:

This car just pulled up.

[indistinct chatter]

I don’t know they just pulled up to my window. What should I do? What do I tell them? I haven’t been trained for this!

As I pulled forward – making sure to keep a safe distance between myself and the other driver – the car moved away from the pick-up window and into one of those spaces usually reserved for customers whose orders take a bit longer to prepare.

You know, you’re at the window and they’ve got to wait for fresh fries or chicken or something so they ask you to pull forward and someone will bring your order out momentarily.

Anyway, the driver parked in one of those spots with the same dexterity he showed on the open road, managing to get both drivers’-side tires up on a curb approximately six inches high and slamming his fender into the front curbing.

If this is how he always drives, the suspension on that vehicle is probably ruined. Either that, or he keeps a mechanic on retainer.

A woman of an age somewhere between thirty and one hundred emerged from the car and s l o w l y made her way across the parking lot, making sure to stop in front of those cars waiting to exit the lot and get on with their afternoons.

Having just picked up my order and glad the car was no longer a menace to me, I pulled into a space away from the other driver to examine my order – this particular chain has a nasty habit of forgetting the sides of a meal; once, they even forgot half my order! Anyway, this time I was missing necessary condiments for my meal, so I was obliged to go in the store.

The woman had placed a take-out order and was departing as I picked up my missing items.

Now on the alert, I waited until they left. In my rear view mirror, I saw the car back up all the way to the building – narrowly missing two cars in the drive-thru lane – and exit the parking lot in the same manner in which he arrived: taking up both lanes.

He exited onto a side street; one of those with one lane in each direction and a turn lane. He took all three lanes to make a right-hand turn (the lane nearest him) and proceeded down the road exactly as before.

Half the car in the right-hand lane, half the car in the turn lane, and entirely a menace to those around him.

If I ever get this bad, please do the right thing and hide my keys from me. I mean, I have a hard enough time keeping track of them as it is right now; by that point in my life, it should be a simple task indeed.

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