My husband always referred to Jersey drivers as "the yellow peril," which used to be a pejorative for one our the USA's major enemies in World War II. Now it refers to the color of the license plates on the cars being driven by people who just do NOT know how to drive in New York City.
I used to attribute the problem to the fact that in NJ drivers take their "road test" on an isolated driving course, and not in actual real-life traffic, as New York State residents do. At least that's the way it was when I took my road test a millennium ago.
So there I was, stopped for a red light, having just come through the Lincoln Tunnel, thinking of the fact that I had three hours before dinner--plenty of time to write my blog for today. No problem. And then--
He just banged into the back of my car.
I remained calm. I got out so I could see the damage and waived him over to the curb. He wife was yelling at him. He was looking at her, not me. Eventually I got his attention. This little incident has consumed enough time for me to have written 2.7846 blogs. I offer you these photos in lieu of what I would have otherwise said. I had planned to write about the Sicilian Vespers--a night in 1200-and-something, when people of my ethnic ilk slit the throats of people who were in the territory when they didn't belong there. (This is the EXACT truth.)
|What he did to my car. The foot in the sneaker is the one that should have been on the brake.|
|What he did to his wife's car.|
Next week, shameless self-promotion concerning the launch next Tuesday of Strange Gods. After that, the Sicilians will get out their knives. By then the car should also be fixed.