I took the girls out for breakfast this morning, because yesterday we were snowed in. I tend to get cabin fever. And quickly. So I was itching to get out first thing this morning, and the timing was made all the more appropriate by daylight savings time. Let’s hear it for springing ahead!

So we got into my husband’s tank of a car… his big, bad Land Cruiser. And yes, I’m aware this truck is a gas guzzler, terrible for the environment, and on and on. But… and this is a big but… we need it. It’s solid, it’s large and safe. It has 4-wheel drive and enough room for two kids (maybe even a third? Someday?) and up until recently, our two very large dogs, who go virtually everywhere with us. And now that we are up in the mountains, it can hold all of our gear, too. For whatever. But I’m done justifying the truck. I love it. My husband loves it. I feel safe in it. My husband knows we are safe in it. And we repent by owning a little wagon that I drive. In the nice weather. Which means I have yet to drive it since we moved to Utah. Because it’s always snowing here. Always.

Anyway, we’re on our way back from breakfast and we come to this odd intersection (our new hometown seems to be filled with these odd intersections) where there are no stop signs, no yield signs, no signs, no nothing. So naturally, I slow down to a respectable speed, see no one coming from opposite directions and proceed. And whoa. A Mini Cooper comes out of no where. Doesn’t slow down, shoots me a look. Not sure why he gave me a look. Neither one of us has any instructions to slow down, yield or stop. What I do have on my side is a giant black truck with an even more giant black Thule cargo carrier on top of it. Seriously, you can see me from outer space. And the other guy? Who’s waving his hands around like an idiot, cursing me to hell, I’m sure of it? He’s in a teeny tiny Mini Cooper. And it’s white. Come on. He’s like a little snowball rolling down the street. Not even visible over the 10-foot snowbanks! But I let him through, he really wasn’t giving me much of a choice. And as he drove ahead of me, still wildly gesticulating with his hands and screaming something at me in the rearview mirror, I had to laugh. A big hearty laugh. And it was for him. And he knew it was for him. And it made him even angrier. So angry that… he sputtered through the stop sign at the next block. He sputtered and stalled.

A little white Mini Cooper and a manual transmission? Is he kidding?

Anyway, Pea and I waved goodbye to him as we drove past him.

He was still angry, but I’m pretty sure he was also embarrassed. Road rage stinks. And karma? It’s a bitch.