The Psychology of Tailgating Part One

I've always marveled at the 
nearsightedness of some drivers on the road. What I mean is, they seem to need to get as close as they can to the rear of my car. I can only assume it's based on the desire to read the fine print on my medical school bumper sticker. Though, of course, there may be "other" reasons for their behavior and the effort to unravel the psychology of tailgating is what inspired the following lyrics. I hope they give you a smile.

"Tailgater"

Verse One:
I was cruisin' down the highway,
a-mindin' my own biz,
when in my rear-view mirror,
I see my nemesis.
His license plate says "tourist,"
some guy from out of town,
he's talkin' on his cell phone,
and about to run me down.

Chorus:

He's a tailgater,
intent on being best,
his ride's a Beemer rocket,
and he looks just like success.
He's got gold in his gastank
and status to maintain,
but with the pedal to the metal,
he ain't got zip for brains.

Verse Two:

I checked on my old speedo,
and I'm right there on the mark,
stayin' out of trouble,
it's like walkin' in the park.
But no matter what the limit,
he's right there on my rump,
sniffin' at my bumper,
like he wants me to speed up.

Chorus.

Verse Three:

I could race him down the highway,
zoom on up the road,
wave with all my fingers,
and blow off that little toad.
But it ain't more speed,
it's a deep-seated need,
he thinks life is competition
and he always has to win.

Final Chorus:

Yeah, he's a tailgater,
intent on being best,
his ride's a Beemer rocket,
and he looks just like success.
He's got gold in his gastank,
and an achin' in his heart,
his ambition always fails him,
and it's tearin' him apart.

(Copyright 2010 by the author, all rights reserved; Creative Commons image entitled "Tailgating" by tommaync via Flickr)