The tunnel of no love

My commute is a straight shot on a two-lane road, about 18 miles of bucolic goodness -- almost like a tunnel that leads me right from my house to my office. When I say bucolic, I'm talking horses, cows, farms and farm stands. But there are some major disadvantages, including:

• Accidents and construction: These gum up the works majorly. Yesterday there was a major accident overnight, and they had to close down the whole road for almost eight hours. Then there are the famous tree chippers and road pavers. Can't you do that stuff before/after rush hour??
  
• Tailgaters: I hate them. Really, really hate them. I pass through little towns with cops who would like nothing better than to pull you over. So I set the cruise and go the speed limit. I had a dumbass in a Chevy Impala (her first mistake right there) almost hit me when the dude in front of me slammed on the brakes. I pulled over and let her go. Let her have her accident somewhere else, I say. But it boils my potato. I tell people with my hands to back the fuck off, and sometimes they do. Sometimes that infuriates them, and they ride my ass more. A warning: Stay away from my new car. I write down license numbers if you're really bad. And I have called the cops on people.

I'm done whining now.