Oh How I Wish Spontaneous Combustion Happened More Frequently, And That I Could Enable It With A Mere Thought

Driving down Laurel Canyon tonight was a slow go. Not because of the traffic... well, I mean, yeah, because of the traffic - but what I mean is not because the traffic was heavy. As in a lot. No. Laurel Canyon was a slow go because of a Student Driver. She was slowing down on all the curves (which are a lot) and taking it easy on the straight parts knowing a curve was coming up.

Which is fine. I was patient. I was a little frustrated, but I saw the Student Driver stickers clearly and it was obvious it wasn't a teacher driving the car home for the night. This was a beginner. So like I said, I was patient.

Except the asshole in the gigantic white pick-up right behind her (and in front of me) wasn't. Patient. He was, in fact, a fucking asshole about the whole situation. On the student driver's ass, and as I know from experience pick-up truck headlights are intensely bright and at a level off the ground that is equal to a normal car's rearview mirror. So I'm sure it was intimidating to the girl. And then he starts beeping. And this goes on until we get to the bottom of Laurel Canyon and it becomes two lanes. And the fuck-face in the pick-up violentlt swerves into the right lane and tries to pass the student driver.

Except then he realizes he wants to turn left onto Hollywood Blvd. And he doesn't have the room to go ahead of the student driver and cut her off and make it to the far left.

So he slows down to cut behind her. Except this is where I come in, pull in close behind the student driver and block asshole-pick-up dickhead. I stop to make the left on Hollywood Blvd. and the pick-up, after briefly flirting with the idea of waiting in a non-turn lane to turn, decides against it, beeps at me, and roars off.

So 2 things:

1) I was reminded of that scene in The Naked Gun(?) where the student driver is calmly told to back up and all that, and then extend her left arm out and stick up the middle finger at the driver going the wrong way.

2) I wished as hard as I've ever wished that that pick-up would blow-up. Alas, I fear he made it home in one piece and not aflame.