An Open Letter

An Open Letter to a P$#^@ in a Porsche:

Dear Self-Absorbed Asshole,

A couple of days ago, you passed me on the Autobahn.  I was traveling with my husband, our two young children and our dog.

I do not know whether you are aware of this, but automobiles are not supposed to produce wake turbulence.  The speed at which you passed left our car, and pretty much my entire body, shaking.  I actually started to cry.  A blink of an eye, a sneeze, an unexpected equipment failure or a small moment of inattention could have annihilated a family.

I could be angry at you for putting our lives at risk for your own personal pleasure, but really it goes much further than that. For after you scared the living hell out of me (and my born-and-raised German husband, btw), I found, in a very, very dark spot hidden deep in my soul,  the desire to see you and your car wrapped around a signpost somewhere up ahead.  I like to think of myself as a forgiving person, but at the moment, I find it difficult to forgive you for something that merely might have happened. It is for this that I hate you.

I hope you found your way home safe and sound.  At least, I will keep telling myself that until I believe it.

I would thank you for your consideration, but I am quite sure you don't give a damn.

Sincerely,
A Fellow Motorist