Jimmy, not Just a Truck

Today I learned a valuable lesson. A Jimmy is not just a sport utility vehicle that stops in the middle of the 95th Ave and 170th St intersection forcing me to slam on my breaks sending everything on my front seat to slam on to the floor at roughly 45 Kms/h. Not only did I have to hang up abruptly on Desert Fox but I swore more than a drunken sailor on shore leave in a bath house in Thailand. I must be the only driver in Edmonton who doesn't have my head you know where. It shouldn't take 25 minutes to get from 170th and 66th Ave to Stony Plain Road. Complete morons. If I was a cop, and you know I would, I'd pistol whip and Billy Club every stupid driver daft enough to start up their Kia Rio and drive it in front of me white knuckled and riding that brake like a mechanical bull. They'd better be religious because she'll need prayer after I finish with them. Now, this may sound harsh but you need to experience it to understand my rage. The only thing worse is when people call me at work and say, "Oh, are you working today?" No, I just show up for fun. Everyone say it with me FaD.