DUDE... in the big black truck...

Some days just start off wrong. You know the kind—nothing catastrophic, just enough little things stacking up that by the end of it, you’re like, we deserve ice cream and silence.

So Elisa and I did what any emotionally stable people would do. We went to Walmart for ice cream. 🍦

Now, our side of town has this absolute disaster of an intersection. The kind where two lanes of oncoming traffic get green turn arrows at the same time… and if you’re not paying attention, congratulations—you’re about to meet Jesus. We’re approaching the light, it turns yellow, and like normal human beings who enjoy living… we slow down to stop.

Behind us?

Enter: Dude in the Big Black Truck.

This DUDE pulls in behind me and IMMEDIATELY starts laying on his horn like I just personally ruined his entire life by not running a red light. And I mean honking.

Aggressively. Passionately. Spiritually.

Within about five seconds—real seconds, not dramatic storytelling seconds—this man completely loses his mind. He swerves around me. Crosses the double yellow line.

Drives INTO the oncoming traffic lane… and runs a fully committed, no-doubt-about-it, been red for at least two seconds RED light. Not orange.Not “it just turned.”Not “maybe I can make it.” RED. And now he’s getting honked at by everyone else.

Elisa and I are just sitting there at the light in complete shock like… “…did we just witness that?” And “DUDE!!!!!” We’re cussing. We’re fired up. We’re wide awake now. Light turns green. We carefully make it through the chaos intersection, turn toward home, already mentally halfway into our ice cream therapy session. And then—

As we’re passing Target… Elisa screams “STOP! MOM STOP!! THERE HE IS!!!” And sure enough. There sits the Big Black Truck. Parked. Like he didn’t just audition for Fast & Furious: Walmart Edition.

Now listen. We were already having a day. We had energy. And suddenly… we had a mission. We pull into the Target parking lot and sit there trying to think of something clever to write on a napkin. Nothing. Not a single creative thought. Just rage and dairy cravings. Then, 💡 Lightbulb. “We surround his truck with shopping carts.” Brilliant. Harmless. Petty. Perfect. Now remember… this is a DUDE. So we are being extremely careful not to let a single cart touch his truck. We are not trying to damage anything—we’re just trying to inconvenience his soul.

Also important detail- Elisa is pregnant. And we are out here moving like we’re in a heist movie. We’re rushing. We’re whisper-yelling. We’re paranoid that every person walking by might be DUDE. At one point I see a man walking toward us and I panic.

“I THINK THAT’S HIM!!!” I sprint to the car, jump in, throw it in gear for a dramatic getaway…

…and the doors automatically lock. Elisa is outside. Pregnant. Locked out. Looking at me like, are you serious right now? I fumble with the locks, she gets in, we both realize…

Wrong guy. Meanwhile, the shopping carts? Rolling away. Because of course the parking lot has a slope.

So now it’s chaos. Absolute chaos. Elisa jumps out to fix the carts while I sit there like the world’s worst getaway driver, scanning the area like we’re about to be arrested for Cart Crimes. She thinks she sees someone again. We panic. We run. I lock her out of the car… again. At this point, I’m not even a getaway driver. I’m a liability. We finally realize we cannot keep doing this. We have ice cream. We have emotional healing to get to. So we abandon the mission, get back in the car, and head home to do what we came to do in the first place—

Eat our feelings in peace. And honestly? Worth it. Because if there’s one thing I learned that day, it’s this:

If you’re going to drive like a maniac through a red light…

Just know…

Somewhere out there…

There might be a mother and daughter with nothing to lose…

And a whole parking lot full of shopping carts.

DUDE… Don’t Be Rude. 🛒🍦