Road Rage

Once, when I was a youth group leader at my church, one of the kids asked me why I didn't have a Jesus fish symbol or anything else, that would let people know that I'm a Christian, on my car.

My answer: I don't want people to know that I'm a Christian when I'm stuck behind one of those rolling road blocks in which some $%@$%@#^@ driver insists on driving 10 mph under the speed limit. It's not a pretty site when road rage kicks in.

I'm a much mellow driver now. One event relieved me of my road rage:

I was driving on one of those winding canyon roads east of L.A. at what I thought was the fastest safe speed for that road when a motorcyclist behind me became unsatisfied with my speed and attempted to pass me several times. Each time oncoming traffic appeared from around a bend in the road. Finally he (or she, I couldn't tell with the motorcycle wear) passed me. Fifteen minutes later, the traffic came to a halt. As I passed the accident site, I saw the reason for the delay in traffic. The motorcyclist, who had earlier passed me, drove through (yes, you read correctly: drove through) a tractor trailer rig and fell into the canyon.

Mixed Up Ethnic Food at Fast Food Restaurant

I ordered only one item at the Wendy's drive through: the Southwest Taco Salad. At the first window, I gave them the exact change. At the second window, they handed me two bags: one for the refrigerated part of the salad and one for the chili. Since it was a simple order, I didn't bother to check the contents of the bags.

When I got home, I found that the bag did include the bowl of taco salad. However, they gave me two packets of oriental sesame dressing, a packet of almonds, and a packet of fried oriental noddles.

I know that America is the melting pot of the world but I'm not about to put sesame dressing on my taco salad.