Okay, so I get it, you should be safe on the road, you should follow all the rules, you should avoid breaking traffic laws, blah blah blah... I get it.

But at the same time, I gotta get chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs at Target before they close in seven minutes, and the soccer mom in the minivan ahead of me ain't helping. I understand that a stop sign means to come to a full stop in the eyes of the law, but I also understand that it is 10:53 at night in the middle of nowhere. A stop sign, especially this late, just means slow down.

Okay, I don't want to sound like Vin Diesel, but like, damn Debby, can you not stop for a full five seconds? And I'm not talking a quick 1-2-3-4-5, I'm talking about five Mississippis. Maybe me and the middle-aged soccer mom are at two ends of the spectrum here, she's too cautious and I'm too "Fast and Furious," but boy, I sure was furious, because Debby, it's time to stop your excessive stopping.

Another one of my favorites was a real turn of events. I was stuck behind a Camaro and a Mustang at a red light, and the two of them were revving their engines, and I thought to myself, "Oh God, we're gonna have a NASCAR race going on right on Nicolls Road." And for a solid three minutes before the light turned, these two meatheads were revving their engines.

Then the light turned green and both cars slowly started accelerating and took a solid couple minutes before they got to 60 miles an hour. If you are driving in a sports car where you can see 200 on the speedometer, it should not take you three minutes to get to 60. If an 18-year-old in a piece of shit 1998 Volvo can pass a sports car, you're going too slow.