" Damn It ! "

.... he mumbles to himself. A beer in one hand, he pounds his other fist on the dashboard and spits in disgust on the car carpet. "There goes 20 bucks to the carpet cleaner again", as he eyes the saliva seep slowly but surely into the fabrics.

He wipes the residue on his lips as he revs the odometer up the 6000 rpm, in free gear obviously. The clock shows 8:50 AM as his mind races frantically, "This is going to be my 5th time clocking in late this month." The old hag supervisor sure ain't going to be pleased.

*Sip* A trickle of beer rolls down his chin. The car in front moves another inch and stops, bumper to bumper crawl. He puts his head out of the window and screams, "F**K you! Move it you bastards!" The car in front crawled another inch, as if perpetuated by his screams. It is clear and imminent that he's going to be late .... very, very late.

The traffic light turns green for the umpteenth time. The rows of cars edge forward slightly. There is still two car spaces opposite the traffic lights, the lights were still green. The car in front hesitated momentarily and a split second later, it turned red. "Hey come on! You should have gone across!" he cuss and swears, a light trail of smoke emits from his temples.

"What excuse should I use this time?" "My mother was sick the last time." "Maybe I should use my dog?" Just as he was about to give up and place his fate in the hands of chance, he saw a sign, clear as the sun in the sky. The sign that's not only going to save him from YELL abuse but gain empathy and compassion from his supervisor.

No wonder I'm late, I'm driving behind a woman ...

• The story is solely fictional and does not suggest in any way that women are not good drivers. It is the imaginative work of the author and not supported by any concrete proof and research.