an open letter

Dear Oregon Drivers,
Hi. It's me again, the girl in your rearview mirror making faces and/or passive aggressive hand gestures (which you probably assume is just me keeping beat to my car tunes or talking with my hands while on some invisible bluetooth technology device, in which case you've fallen for my ruse and deserve to know now that I am actually signaling your ineptitude). I just wanted to bend your ear a little and talk about something... Again.

I know, I know, you're already tensing at the thought of it. This is not the first time we've had to have this conversation. But frankly, until you can really show me that you hear me and have learned from the past, I am going to have to keep bringing this up. Trust me, it's just as exhausting on my end and I don't like having to be this person at you. Really!

Look, I can appreciate being cautious. We live in a state where people walk, run and bike all over the place (and we auto-lovers are often victimized for our only semi-necessary gas-guzzling) so being overly aware of our surroundings is often a very admirable quality. But honey, if you're on a road where the posted speed is 45 mph, you are allowed to go 45 mph. 

That sign was not placed there to trick you - and only YOU - into driving at an unsafe speed, nor is it some sort of sting operation with a baton-wielding cop hiding behind that row of bushes waiting to come and slap your wrist with the strong arm of the law.

I promise!

And I completely understand and respect your need to slow ever-so-slightly when you're about to make a right-hand turn but do you really have to come to a full stop? I mean really? I'm not sure what your driving instructor told you, but this is not necessary. Sure, if you're the only one on the road and you want to do it so you can check that text that just pinged! on your phone, by all means have at it. But when there is a line of cars aching to lurch forward coming up fast behind you and all of a sudden you crank that wheel, it is in itself actually fairly dangerous (I know, crazy, right?!)

And while we're at it sweetheart, you have got to do me a solid here and have a little more gall! Get yourself out there and demand your place on the road! No more of this wilting flower asking politely if you can merge into traffic because AGAIN! this is dangerous.

When you ever-so-delicately inched onto the freeway this evening it made it rather difficult to get up to the highway speed which, I know, I know, seems to make you nervous because it's a whopping 55 mph, whoa! (indeed, Joey Lawrence point right there!) but come on! Work with me!

And don't you honk at ME when you realize your merging lane is rapidly coming to an end and uh oh! you're running out of asphalt. If you'd been paying even the slightest attention to the motorized world around you, you'd have realized I was going the posted speed limit and was not about to slow down enough to let you in right away because of the giant semi waiting to crawl into my trunk space!

Now stop it, don't look at me like that. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know and like I said to start: this is hardly the first time we've had to have this conversation. I know someday you'll understand what I'm trying to say, but you're going to have to put on your big-kid pants and make some changes if we're ever going to have a functional relationship.

I still love you. I mean, I love everyone and you're no exception. But that doesn't mean I have to like you all the time, does it? No, it does not.

So we'll shelve this discussion one more time but after this, things are going to get ugly.

Let's talk soon, okay?

Californianly yours,


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