It seems I'm often subjected to neocon hate radio in other people's cars. Wouldn't listening to nails screeching down a chalkboard be better?
Just like virtually all Hardley-Ableson riders suffer from wrist seizures, many drivers suffer ankle seizures resulting in seemingly uncontrolled herky-jerky throttle inputs, even on the smoothest and straightest of roads. I wonder if these people are capable of eating soup without flinging it about?
