When
I saw the Ford F150 in the Publix parking lot I had feelings ranging
from disgust to humor. Should I put aside my sense of political
correctness and accept that the driver simply has a macabre sense of
humor or be dismayed because the driver might be one of the people who
might have passed to close to me as I was riding?
I concluded that the best way to dismiss the possible troglodyte behind
the wheel of the monument of excess was to imagine the
insurance rate he, she or (more likely) it faced for wretched driving
habits.
