I'm driving home late from a downtown conference, so it's a trip on the freeway back. Approaching my exit, I get behind someone in a blue mini-van, and all I see is the back end of this thing. He's going about 50 in a 70 zone approaching my exit. I won't have time to get around this guy, who apparently managed to operate an automobile while being in a coma (a great skill to have), so I'm stuck behind him. He never signals, then pulls off the freeway. The onramp has two lanes to turn, he's not signalling so eventually he drifts over in front of me. Red light, no signal, he turns left. I'm stuck following dookie-brains some more. He turns right in front of me, heading down the road to my house. This is a lane than merges into another lane, so I yield for the oncoming traffic--Dumbass Van Stan does not. The fastest Saturn I've ever seen (I swear!) has to almost lock up the brakes to prevent rear ending the van. Now there's some distance between me and the van guy, and I'm thinking it's over. It's not. As I come around the curve there's a left turn lane and a passing lane on the right. The van slows down to about 10 mph (no signal light again, this is the 3rd time now) as if it's going to turn. I pull over to the right pass lane, which merges not far after the left lane where I thought this braindead moron was going to turn, but he's not. I have to drop it down a gear and punch it so I can merge. THEN, this guy steps on the gas and rides so close to my trunk his lights aren't visible any more. He's so much in my trunk that I think he's about to pull my cd changer cartridge and fill it with his own selection of music. Finally I turn left, and I'm flipping this guy off with everything I've got--I'm having a spasmatic epileptic fit in the drivers seat. If I could get my hands around his neck I would repeatedly smash his freakin' face into his van windshield. There is absolutely no redeeming quality this moron has in his existence that could justify him continuing to consume precious oxygen from other living creatures that need it, like rabid skunks. The object of all my hate this week drives a Dodge Caravan.