Well, I riding down the road on my way to pursue my blosoming career when the woman in front of me slows down from 90 to 40 for what seems to be no reason. Of course as I end up virtually in her fucking back seat I have a ringside view of the cause. She had to slow down to comb her snotty nosed son's hair. Never mind that she's supposed to be in charge of three tonnes of hurtling metal and a tank of volatile fuel, oh no, skanky kid Johhny's hair is a tad out of place, what will the teachers think? She's just oblivious to the idea that the little twerps' head could come off as he shoots through the windscreen and her perfectly arranged blonde head would get a trifle mussed up in the multi-car pile up that she could easily start. God Fucking Damn, where do these people buy their licences?