You didn’t even notice the glassy sparkling water on the breaking waves or the breaching whales at Olowalu because your lips started sucking diesel fumes from my tailpipe at Ma‘alaea. Instead of losing my cool and slamming on my brakes, buying myself a new vehicle on your dime, and putting that radiator in your lap (just so you know, I could have), I pulled over into the right hand turn lane to let you by because your racecar was up my ass. And then you bolted up to the next car and gave them the same treatment, only this time swerving back and forth and back and forth as if you were on the track. The thing that made me write this is that you actually threw me a shaka out your passenger window when you zoomed by me. This isn’t a video game. Wake up, Mario.
Illustration by Ron Pitts