He blows by you on Cemetery Road going 90-plus only when Deputy Montalvo is conveniently out of sight. When you pull into your parking space in the morning, you find him parked not inches, but entire feet over the freshly-striped white line that divides your spot from his. As you crawl out of your passenger door, you think of the many ways that you can impart your wrath upon the driver that has now put you through such suffering. At the end of the day you hustle to your car only to find it dented and dinged from the door of that careless automobilist who so graciously banged his door against yours. As you mount your trusty steed you notice “that guy” standing directly behind your car, and despite the various requests, hand gestures, and expletives you display, he conveniently doesn’t notice as you sitting in reverse ready to finally leave school. As you edge your rear into the bumper-to-bumper assembly of cars and begin to move forwards towards freedom, he proceeds to speed into traffic as if Helen Keller were behind the wheel forcing her way into a line, nearly ramming you from the side in the process. Although you think the ordeal is over, you return the next day only to find him parked halfway in your spot yet again. You thought the pain was over, but it has only just begun. Offensive Driver Kid—you’re one of us.