Dear driver of the Ford F150

You, the one parked at pump 3 at Gas America this afternoon. Yes, you, the inconsiderate mouth-breather white trash asshole. You know who you are, the one with the country music turned so loud I could hear it before I turned into the gas station parking lot. You, inside, shooting the shit with the fat girl in the white T-shirt. You, with your white trash Joe Dirt wannabe scraggly beard and dirty baseball cap.

Thanks for entertaining us all with your radio turned up as loud as it would go, the bass at max. The country songs entertained all of us filling our vehicles. As you started your rusted gray piece of shit F 150 I know why your tunes were cranked full on -- your lack of muffler probably does make it hard to hear the radio. Hey, a piece of advice from the old HB, free of charge -- you do not have to rev the engine full up when your release the clutch. When you pop the clutch, the vehicle wants to die, so double clutching just makes your worn clutch problem worse; less gas, smooth peddles dude.

Oh, and that Marlboro hanging from your mouth at a jaunty angle might make you look really cool in front of the ladies, Smoking while gassing your rusted Ford F150 makes you a moron of the highest order.