No, really, I enjoy having my ass ridden, especially when I'm carefully coaxing my friend's brand-new truck to the grocery store. He was kind enough to let me borrow it.
Driver-guy, you were kind enough (I saw the contemplative, passionate look in your eyes as you loomed ever closer to my rear bumper) to indulge my passion for ass-riding, and ride my ass for at least half a mile in very heavy, stop-and-go traffic, in which I was constantly having to apply my brakes, and you were constantly having to near-swerve into oncoming traffic to avoid really ramming it up my rear. You knew I liked that, didn't you, taking it up the rear, especially by an inexpertly-piloted late-80s model Dodge Caravan with a sombrero hanging from the mirror. So thank you, Driver-guy.
And Passenger-guy, guy with the 20 oz. of Diet Pepsi hanging from your hand, which was hanging from the window, in light of the early summer's somnolent heat. Passenger-guy, guy with the white Nike sweatband encircling your fat head like a messenger angel's halo. Passenger-guy who, when Driver-guy finally had to ACTUALLY SWERVE INTO TRAFFIC to avoid giving it to me in the rear, and when Driver-guy covered up his mistake by zooming up on my left side and CUTTING ME OFF in the front, Passenger-guy who leaned out of the window and said: "You're a real ignorant bitch, you know that?"
And so I thank you, Passenger-guy. I reserve my most heartfelt thanks for you, and not Driver-guy. I did not know that I was a "real ignorant bitch." I have gone almost 24 years without knowing this. I thank you for providing me with this information, just as I thanked Driver-guy for trying so diligently to give it to me up the ass, since that was what I so obviously wanted. I thank you for telling me that I am a "real ignorant bitch," and every day since then, Passenger-guy, EVERY DAY SINCE THEN I have tried to live up to this, and will continue to do so, for the rest of my life.
Society thanks you, Guys in the Dodge Caravan. Society thanks you.