The struggle and love of living with RRT

Last night while driving home I found myself annoyed with the pickup truck in front of me. At this point I don’t even recall what he or she did that caused my annoyance but that isn’t important here. What came out of my mouth is where I found myself mystified. My RRT (Road Rage Turrets) has been something I’ve been aware of for years and the scenerio always goes something like this….

:: Enter vehicle and driver who does something to piss me off. :: (This could be braking for no reason, cutting me off, or any other thing that I find annoying at that moment in time.)

Me: (I scream in a fit of God knows what from the safe enviroment of my car, windows up and in no way hearable by anyone but myself (and perhaps the rare passenger) any random mashing of words that might come to mind). “Dick stroking poop noodle!”, “Ass Hammer!”, “Crotch Sock!!”, “Ball scratching shit nugget!”, “Tit sucking ligers ass!”… It can be anything really. Just some words that I place together in my moment of rage. Immediately after this lyrical moment of genious I start to laugh and pat myself on the back for being so clever and creative.

I find my RRT to be comical and perhaps a bit therapeutic. Although the name of the condition itself may seem a bit daunting I can assure you that is much healthier than those of you who suffer from the typical road rage. With RRT there is no tail-gating, chasing the offending car or even gesturing with your middle finger. No one is harmed and you are left feeling like you were just handed a Nobel Prize in Literature.

RRT for LIFE!!    

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