So I’m minding my own business, waiting for the light to change. Suddenly I hear angry shouting. I look to my right – a purple-faced man is hanging out his window, yelling and pointing his finger at the back of my car. I can’t hear his exact words – my windows are rolled up and they’re going to stay that way. But I get the gist. He’s not trying to tell me I have a flat tire, that’s for sure. It’s my bumper sticker – he takes umbrage.

Maybe I should have been afraid of that rabid right-winger (trust me, he wasn’t trying to hide it), but I remained calm. I have prior experience with the “free speech for thee, but only if you agree with me” crowd. They’re usually not interested in a real discussion. (Not that a stoplight is the time or place.) Sure enough, when he was done with his little tirade, he peeled away in a cloud of self-righteous dust.

As that song from the Chicago movie goes, “Whatever happened to class?” It’s a rare quality in that bunch. Hit-and-run intimidation is their thing these days. What a shame. We can probably thank their heroes Rush Limbaugh and Bill O’Reilly for that.

When I got home I looked at the bumper sticker again. I saw it the way he did, and I have to admit I was mortified. It was dusty, faded and barely readable! I tore that sorry thing off and replaced it with a brand new one. I hope it’s more tolerable now.