An Open Letter

Dear Redneck in the Toyota Corolla,
I understand that your penis size was called in to question when you saw me driving up in my little Honda, but driving 60 in a 55 is a little too slow for me, that's why I tried to pass you. I was within my rights; the dotted line in the middle of the road means I can pass. I know that concept is a bit hard to grasp, but I'll talk slow for your benefit: the sign that says "No Passing" followed by a long solid line means you can't pass; otherwise, it's allowed.
Speeding up to 80 because I wanted to pass, is a little bit of a jerk move, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I know how it is sometimes you don't realize that you're poking along (well, I know what speed I am going, but not everybody is as perfect as I am). When I got behind you again, however, and you slowed down to 45, that is when you pissed me off. Then when I went to pass you again, and you sped up to 90, that was war!
You are very lucky, Mr. Redneck, that I was the one you were playing with because I am a sweet, mother of two, and despite the fact that you feel it is okay to flip me off and scream "B***ch-a** C**t" at me in front of your 4 year-old, I decided I wasn't going to put your children in danger by passing you just as that car was coming at us. I know that I wasn't alone in thinking you were the world's biggest ass because I saw your baby-mama hitting you about the face and arms.
I do wonder, however, what it says about your penis-size that I smoked you on the next pass, and that by the time we rolled through the next town you were a peanut in my rear view mirror.
Even if you think I had no right to speed, your driving was much more reckless, and I hope the next person you do that to runs you off the road.
Sincerely,
Woodlandmama