Douch Bag Test
If you own a pickup truck and live in Florida, I’ve got bad news for you.
Florida drivers are apparently known around the country for coming in two flavors: blue-haired grannies driving 45 miles on the interstate with the left turn signal on for 20 miles and senseless idiots riding on bumpers at 90 MPH… in the rain… at night. As a long time survivor of the Florida motorways allow me to confirm this in the most certain terms. Pretty much everyone down here drives like a moron, the only difference being some drive way over the speed limit and some way drive under.
However, there is a special brand of douche bag that I have been particularly annoyed with lately: the Florida pickup driver. Apparently before a person can drive a pickup here they are required to have a portion of their brain removed. The portion removed seems to be the one that controls respect for other human beings. Once removed, the Florida Department of Big’Ol Vee-hickles will fill the empty space with a secondary testosterone gland.
They drive as if the other vehicles on the road are somehow inconveniencing them. They weave trucks made for pulling horse trailers in and out of traffic like a sports car. Unfortunately, since that big ass dualie of yours doesn’t exactly turn on a dime, the rest of us have to ride our brakes when you’re around, because you sure as hell won’t look out for anyone else. They have mirrors so large they could be used as part of a solar farm and yet never even glance in them until *after* they’ve merged. For some reason they routinely seem to drag their 12 foot wide asses into the right lane to pass right at the on ramp, and screw the guy trying to merge, Mr. Truck-Owning-Douche-Bag has got to get to church on time!
If you’re sitting at home saying, “I’m not a douche bag and I drive a pickup truck,” only three possible explanations.
1. You don’t live in Florida
2. You’re horribly, horribly wrong and are, in fact, a complete douche bag.
I’m sorry. I’ve got the results of your Douche Bag test right here and… I’m afraid it’s bad news.