It started out as an ordinary trip to a car show. I followed the GMC to a choice pull through spot. I could have gone to either side, but i went right in case there was no passenger (couldn’t see). Even then, I was cautious in pulling in, in case there was a passenger, especially one who liked to kick the door open.
Parking brake, kill the ignition. Oh look, there WAS a passenger. Good thing I left plenty of room.
I let the lady go because: lady. Also, they were parked first. Also, I’m getting my camera out of its padded bag. and then i get out, to go see what Peoria AZ call a car show. But first this:
Bubba (now past the passenger side of my car): You pulled in there so fast I thought you were going to take my wife’s door off.
Me(inner monologue): if he’s joking, he’s kinda unfunny.
Me (silently) : The door that didn’t open until I pulled in and stopped? That door?
Me: (aloud): I thought I pulled in pretty slow.
Bubba: Yeah right.
Me (still between the cars): mumble mumble CRANKY OLD MAN.
Bubba: *turns like he heard it*
Bubba: *relocks locked doors*
Wife: *shakes head, laughs quietly at absurd pissing contest*
On the way out, I stopped by the SUV. My theory was that there would be a KTAR “shoot a libtard and deport their corpse to Russia” bumper sticker or something like that. Nope. Just this:
Putting the pieces together, I almost started feeling bad for the guy:
Afraid of controversial colors, afraid of thieves, afraid of bugs. Maybe startled to find a car that was behind him parked in a space next to his. [Ed.: the Nerve!] Afraid that being startled made him look weak to the woman. Afraid that not defending her honor against a non-event was weak. Walking away while talking all gruff like, so the look was tough but actions were unlikely to cause an escalation.
Basically, a yippy dog.
So here’s to you, angry scared old man. An apropos of mostly nothing song that will insult and revolt you.
*goddamn long-haired hippies*