Nice Guys, Dumb Guys and North County Roads

I got this from a friend and thought it was rather amusing.

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Nice guys don't just finish last, they get kneed in the guts and the nuts, then stabbed in the back, kicked while they're down, shot in the face, then shot in the nads until she's out of mags, and then thrown into a grave she made him dig without his knowledge, and then buried in time for a dance that involves sea of urine unto said grave followed immediately by running off with a guy and forgetting all about you. Even if you were just a little more than friends.

I wish women would save this truly frightening level of what can only be malice for the guys that are the jerks that actually screw them over.
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From my experience this is totally true. While the fore-mentioned account is rather vivid I think it describes exactly what happens to guys when girls abuse lines such as: "God said we should break up" or "I just need to date different people for a while". Many a friend have recieved those .30-.30 rounds to the stomach before and become a sobbing mess at their dorm room desks. It's amazingly hard to know what to say when you see the kindest and most loving guys you know disembowled by an apparently heartless female. People always quote the cliche its better to love and lost then never to have loved at all. In this case...that's crap.

Somehow this tragedy reminds me of other such ironic paralells. For instance, I know about 20 - 30 people who have never taken a turn with more than two wheels touching the ground. They never have to buy shocks because their cars aren't touching the surface of the road long enough to wear them out. These guys are never ever ever ever stopped by police. Then there's me...who gets stopped for doing 8 over. Granted, once they look at the record the just let me go with a smile, but still. I have counted down the meters as idiots pass me on a busy highway while I'm driving the truck with a 30ft trailer on it. Yes, I pass trucks when they are going slow...but I'm usually going the speed limit when I'm driving the truck and these guys seem to think that playing chicken with a semi at 85 mph is fun. Trust me, the semi doesn't care and isn't going to move and I can't stop that fast either...if you mess up or misjudge this move your dead just because you wanted your snot on a burger faster.

I do speed and drive crazy often...but I do my bit on back country roads where it takes a little doing to stay on the road at 70...and there no one else in the car or on the road...except for moose. They usually just watch but every once in a while they run out to join the fun. This is when you find out if your a good driver or not. The half a second that seperates you from getting to know the moose's rear end a little more intimately or waving at him in the rearview mirror is esophagus squeezing to say the least. Its when a good friend gets stuck with the first option do you stop and realize. You grip the wheel a little harder and try to push it out of your mind. You focus on the road and try to outrun the memories and the fears. Northern maine roads are the best for outrunning things. They're long, curvy, hilly, narrow, and remote. Not many other people around to see you screw up. Not many people around to hear you scream as the needle pushes the bottom. I would go faster...but Danielle doesn't do well past 100...and she didn't really appreciate the 120...so I try and keep those speeds for especially trying times and a little flatter roads.