This is just a short story about Saturday night. I'm only writing it because I'm waiting for Lost to get tivoed.
Anyway, I was driving from Louisville over to Rich O's. I was on I-265, going maybe 60 or so, and a black Trans Am flew by me. He must have been going at least 90.
He also had a taillight out.
So, to quickly review: He was going at least 90, on a Saturday night, in a Trans Am, with a taillight out.
Brilliant, right? I mean, except for the burned-out taillight, which wasn't brilliant at all.
At the exit for Grant Line road, TransAmDude and I both got stuck at the light. I was in the right turn lane, he was in the other lane.
I looked over at his car. The window was down. It was a warm night.
So I rolled down my own window, and I hollered over at him, "Hey! You've got a taillight out!"
'Cause I'm a good Samaritan and shit.
The guy looked over at me and kinda shook his head or something, like maybe he couldn't hear me.
So I hollered even louder, "YOU'VE GOT A TAILLIGHT OUT!"
The light turned green, and TransAmDude gave me the finger and yelled, "Fuck off!" and drove away.
Wouldn't giving someone the finger and telling them to fuck off, wouldn't that be redundant?