You're the guy in the big F150 truck, tearing down the 57 freeway, flashing your headlights in my rearview mirror while tailgating me because I was driving too slow—at 65 mph! I know, for drivers like you, those pesky speed-limit signs are meant as subtle suggestions, but some of us actually want to keep our supple flesh from taking on the consistency of crispy bacon bits strewn across the highway. We might have envied your rapid rate of travel as you made your way toward Angel Stadium were it not for the traffic jam you encountered at the 22. . . .
