http://thedailyedge.thejournal.ie/tailgating-video-803929-Feb2013/
You might get stared out of it
I saw this yesterday…that guy is such a fuckin boss…the fingerless gloves are such an excellent added bonus…
I usually just slow down and then drive like an old lady to annoy them.
What might need to be ascertained (and probably wont be) is that the guy might have been driving too slow in the first place. I would generally be on the tailgate side when this happens. However if I found myself suddenly tailgating I either pull back or pass around the tortoise asap. Slow driving should be illegal and be deserving of penalty points. Speed limits are there to be reached (and tested) not to be safely kept under.
The only rule of driving in Miami:there are no rules…
I have done stuff like that a few times. I am surprised I haven’t been shot…
If you look close the guy has a pistol sticking out of his right pocket or belt.
Jesus! It’s always about guns with you isn’t it? 2 posts 2 gun references!
[:)]
If you look close the guy has a pistol sticking out of his right pocket or belt.
BTW that’s his cell phone case that hooks to his belt
Late,
grmpysmrf
nooooooooooooooooooo! the link is down! how can someone claim copyrights?
Your welcome!
This reminds me of a story my cousin told me once about when he worked at a bar. It was a bit of a dive, similar faces every day, old boys and geezers coming in at opening to nurse a pint of Guinness and read the newspaper. Not a cheerful place. But there was one guy who’d come in there who always made my cousin’s heart sink the moment he walked through the door. It was a miserable bar before he walked in, but whenever this guy entered through the front door (I like to imagine those western saloon doors, but your mileage may vary) my cousin had to disappear round back to pop a sertraline just to stay awake.
He’d always order quite a strong whisky, one of the ones that can only go down with a bit of effort, and with every sip his face would crumple like he’d swallowed one of those sour toxic waste sweets you used to get as kids. He’d just sit in the bar and watch as he sipped his drink. Some kind of people watching, we guessed? It’s fun to do in a coffee window sometimes. This guy wasn’t having fun though, every time he saw something – someone coughing, someone else chuckling at a joke, or someone cheering when the sports were on – his face would fall. Pure sorrow on his face. My cousin told me it was like you told a kid that Christmas had been cancelled.
(He would know what that would look like – for four years straight he’d wait until Christmas Eve, take me aside and warn me that Christmas had been called off due to bad weather. I’d fall for it every single time.)
Occasionally, this guy would take a break from people watching to check a tablet, some ipad type thing. In fact, my cousin said the only time he heard him speak aside from his whisky order (before this bit coming later) was to ask for the wifi code. Just a quick scroll every now and then, with a few taps on the odd occasion and then back to staring.
Anyway, one day this geezer was looking around, sipping his drink and crumpling when some likely lads walked in. Big energy for eleven in the morning, quite big fellas with big hair. They were loud but made a point of being friendly to the barstaff. My cousin said it’s the sort of thing that always came as a red flag – by trying to establish a rapport, it would make it that little bit harder to leave. They ordered their drinks and lingered by the bar, with my cousin keeping a careful eye on them while he washed the same pint glass over and over.
It wasn’t long before they made a beeline to the whisky-watcher after they saw him watching them, looking up from his tablet. It was the chap who was being loudest draping his arm round the sad man’s shoulders and leaning in.
“Why the long face?” He asked him.
(Disclaimer: The guy with the whisky is not a horse.)
The sad man looked like he was going to burst into tears. The loud man lowered his tone, but his voice still reverberated round the room.
“Listen, you look like you’re not a happy bunny.” He went on. “We’re Joy Kills. We’re just getting going, but we’ve got a whole agenda ready for the day.” The Sad Man’s bottom lip quivered.
“So there’s Norman’s nephew, who’s turning six today. We’re going to go to his birthday party and pop the balloons and poo on the cake. Isn’t that right, Norman?”
Norman (a tall man who kept his waterproof on indoors) nodded wistfully.
“Then we’re going to a kitten sanctuary. We plan on setting it on fire and take the charred remains to the old people’s home for lunch. After that, we’re planning on drop kicking a toddler and then getting our phones out in the cinema. It’s a whopper of a day and we’re set to make everyone miserable. I was wondering… would you like to join us?”
The Sad Man’s lip stopped wobbling. My cousin watched over to him, ready to intervene, because he was good like that. The Sad Man’s swallowed loudly and spoke.
“Nothing would make me happier,” he gurgled. “But first, I have to delete some posts in www.discourse.prongs.org”
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hahahaha, sounds like a sad existence. 