Hi there,

You may not have noticed me here. I’m the guy in the car in front of you. I understand that you may have accidentally overlooked me, since you’re driving an SUV approximately the size of a small office building. It’s perfectly understandable. I just have a simple request, if you don’t mind:

GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE!

Look, I understand why you have a very large vehicle. You have two children, they need their space, or they start fighting all the time. And it’s really irritating when they fight. You definitely need the third-row seat for when you have to pick up some of their friends, although you try to avoid doing it because their snotty little friends are even more rotten than your kids. And of course, there’s the safety issue. Why, you’ve seen pictures of accidents…in fact, you’ve had a friend who worked in a hospital, haven’t you? She told you all about the car crash victims, right? How the person in the Hyundai had to spend months in traction, having to re-learn to walk, talk, and smell; and how the SUV driver had a little bruise from the seat belt? So of course, anyone can understand that if – God forbid – you were to be in an accident, you’d want to have the best chance of walking away from it. And your family, too, of course. And since you’re so concerned with safety, I’m hoping you and I can see eye-to-eye on this:

GET OFF THE PHONE! GET OFF THE PHONE! GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE!

Now I’m not saying that your phone call isn’t important. Certainly not. Your girlfriend needs to know about what McDreamy said the other night on Gray’s Anatomy. It’s just that, well, the conversation seems to be distracting you a bit, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that you’re sipping from that Starbucks cup at the same time. You’re failing to maintain a safe following distance, and see, I’d rather not be the guy who has to have skin grafted to his face from his perineum.

SO GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE! GET OFF THE GODDAMN PHONE NOW BEFORE I RUN YOU OFF THE ROAD, PULL YOU OUT THROUGH THE WINDOW, AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR SAGGY MIDDLE-AGED ASS!

It’s not like I never make phone calls when I’m driving, myself. But you see, I have a headset, one of those little Bluetooth sets. You know, the ones that make you think strangers are talking to you when you’re waiting in line inside Dairy Queen? Anyway, it helps me keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel. They’re awfully cheap these days, and since you often speak of how much your husband makes, even outside of polite company, then surely he can afford $30 or $40 for a little safety helper. After all, he is spending $90 a week in gas so you can go to the Wal-Mart on the good side of town, the one with fewer brown people and the Dunkin Donuts inside. But, in the meantime, since you seem to have missed my turn signal when we both changed lanes, and you nearly ran me off the road, I would kindly ask:

GET OFF THE PHONE! GET OFF THE PHONE! GET OFF THAT FUCKING PHONE RIGHT NOW!  NOW, DAMMIT, NOW!