My Mother, if I had one (I made one up see), would have said to me, as I grew up searching for my true north, that God is in the Grand Design and the Devil is in the details and then lovingly add that I spend too much time looking for God. The devil was on the highway last night.

As I hit the on ramp I stifled a groan at the sight of a 2k back up... the pulsing river of red lights saying you're going to be stuck here for a while... I stifled the groan out of instinct because I knew the only reason for a traffic jam of this size at seven thirty in the misty evening would be an accident. The sound of sirens nagging behind me was simple confirmation... one ambulance, then another, and another... sped past in the emergency lane, somebody was going to die! How could I sit and steam in irritation when just a little way down the hill someone was dying?

Most of the other motorists felt the same way and we all waited calmly inching forward a little at a time.. but there is always one motherfucker, one mingy little self serving CUN tsk tsk. Last night she was driving a silver Yaris (cos only a pretentious prick would want to drive that car) with a big fat ass "Jesus Saves!" bumper sticker (devil in the details see) and too brats bouncing around in the back seat. She flew past tail gating an ambo in the emergency lane with here hazards flicking like a gang of teenagers flick cigarettes away when the teacher comes (or not... at the rough schools you know).. man I was pissed.

By the time I got to the actual accident scene, however, I had convinced myself that this poor woman in the silver Yaris was in someway connected to the accident, perhaps one of her loved ones lay torn and bleeding on the tarmac and she was rushing to their side? There are three sides to every story right? So when I saw her receiving a ticket my heart sank once again at the desperate viciousness of this person, hell I would have cried if i wasn't such a manly bloke. Having received her punishment, which I imagine was a token spot fine amounting to not very much - she was grinning her little head off - she pushed back into the traffic.

As she drove past the carnage, and maybe only I saw it because I never look at the accident, I keep my eyes fixed on the car ahead of me, the little boy in the back seat and he couldn't have been more than eight years old leaned out of the window with camera phone in hand a proceeded to take snap shots of the destruction giggling and encouraged by the driver. Then Jesus saves sped away. 

I stopped at the BP service station on my way home, to buy milk, in a funk of a mood, and my mp3 player changed the tune. Nina Simone singing feelin good, and in the parking lot... a silver Yaris, with a Jesus saves bumper sticker... all alone in the corner dimly lit.....

Yup -- I keyed the living crap out of that car... and dashed home fuck the milk!