I have consistently enjoyed driving around the towns in which I live.  One of my better jobs, straight out of college, was delivering meat to various Sizzler restaurants in Louisville, KY.  My dad wasn't quite so impressed, but at least he found it a step up from my feeble attempt at steering a cab.  But just as in any endeavor, there is a downside to my cruising, and that is my being forced into being the most gracious denizen of the drive.  Not only do I have to be Mr. Pleasant because my business is shouted at anyone my van has within view, but also I have my telephone number on three sides.  As my telephone is piped through the speakers, I don't need anyone screaming their blue noise at me and blowedin' 'em up. Real good (SCTV allusion. Anyone ever hear of Billy Sol Hurok and Big Jim McBob? They blowed up Neil Sedaka real good <anyone hear of Neil Sedaka?  SCTV?  YouTube it then.>).  

So I remain most polite person on the road.  But I can dream through my politeness, and what I dream is that people would take it a little easier and get off of my rear bumper.  I don't doubt others dream the same.  I understand the tight squeeze, but usually there is little reason for anyone to be so near.  And I can't help but believe that those accidents about our highways each morning which back traffic from infinity to beyond have much to do with proximity of bumpers and fenders.  Instead of tailgating, I wish for talegaiting, which is to say that when I blog for Elephant Trunk Moving Supplies, I would like for people run to their computers to read my tales.  It's much safer, and at least if you become angered by my shameless twist of the word "tailgating," your written response to my blog wouldn't blow my speakers.