To the guy we almost t-boned

We know.

We know you didn't f*cking see us coming. It's clear the way you eased out onto the li'l side street, nary a care in the world. Ready to start your day, especially this morning, with a swift lefthand turn into oncoming traffic always does the trick, we're sure.

Maybe if we had added one more sugar to our coffee at our favorite li'l breakfast stop, we would have struck you like a freight train running through the middle of (our) head. But no. One less sugar, one less accident.

But we digress.

So there you were, lunging left. We came up on you like gangbustas and *almost* crushed your hopes and dreams -- and made us really, really late for work. But no. We saw you and saved the day. In one motion, we slammed on the breaks, downshifted with our left hand, grabbed our coffee with the right and told you to f*ck off, loudly, with the remaining body parts.

Then we realized not so much with the coffee this morning, because we were wide awake on adrenaline alone. Heart pumping and mouth still telling you to f*ck off, we did a quick car version of The Weight and tried to simmer down now.

We wish we would have come even closer to hitting you, Lefty Lucy. That so would have made our day.

Huh. Perhaps we shall joust again tomorrow, when one of us hits up the bagel joint again because we're out of milk and Cheerios. Bring it on, beeyatch. Bring it on.