What's scarier?
An angry confrontation with a major whack job who shalt remain nameless...
or....
the realization that, IF the tire on that 18-wheeler beside me blows, it will cause the van to roll over and not only will I die, but pieces of me will be strewn all over the interstate.
I gave it 54 miles of thought and could not find the answer. Or the difference.
Color me chickenshit.
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