There are some traffic incidents in which the characters are so bad, we give up on life. And then there are traffic incidents in which the characters are SO bad, that we see a small reflection of ourselves in it. This, joyfully, is the latter.
It’s got everything from undeserved indignation, bleached blonde hair, the tackiest wheels imaginable, a panicked call to the police, and the rarely-seen third option of the Fight or Flight dilemma, the Trash Dance.
And who among us hasn’t resorted to the Trash Dance, artfully demonstrated here by our hero, in a moment of exuberance and insecurity?
None of us, that’s who.
None of us.