Hey dick-bag, it's me, the guy in the old truck who had the audacity to park next to you yesterday. I realize you couldn't see the lines in the parking lot because of the snow on the ground, but honestly, how much fucking room do you need? Were you afraid somebody would scratch your pavement-specific 4X4? I realize you've modified it with a spendy winch, a roof-mounted tent, bright-orange traction-mats, and host of other absurdities you've likely never used. Fair enough though. You're a tool and that's what tools drive. But evidently, you felt threatened by the proximity of my parking, and chose to write "dick" in the grime on my quarter-panel. Naturally, you did this after you slunk out of the bar... But oh! The look on your face when I drove through town, and saw your stupid Tonka truck cruising toward me. Yeah, that was me leaning out the window, giving you the finger. Like the passive-aggressive coward you are, you just kept driving. Good thing, since I dropped my family off, and went back looking for you. Just a heads up: You might think twice about your conflict skills. I'm a 220-pound product of an incredibly brutal life, and I have an intense case of PTSD. What's more, few things make me as angry as people who fuck with another's vehicle. Conversely, few things make me a happy as publicly embarrassing an entitled man-child, and that's what you narrowly escaped. Next time, behave with honor and address your grievances face-to-face. Or don't. Your truck stands out in a small town. And I will see you again.