If you are the guy who, a couple days ago, came within inches of running me off the road and making me crash and die because you failed to check your mirrors or look over your shoulder or whatever exactly you failed to do before changing lanes, I would like to extend a humble apology to your wife who was sitting next to you in the passenger seat. I expect that my subsequent ungentlemanly behavior must have made her feel more than a little uncomfortable.
Judging from her facial expression, your wife appeared to have found the experience of riding mere feet from a roaring, cursing, enraged lunatic wildly gesticulating toward his car's rear-view mirrors in an effort to educate her oafish husband as to the existence and location of his own, and to make a case for the possible benefit of their future use, a bit unsettling, and, I would think, somewhat puzzling.
She, being completely innocent in the matter (and in fact, placed in the very same jeopardy as myself by your irresponsibility!) should never have been exposed to further trauma. So, again, I am profoundly sorry that my impassioned display of auto parts knowledge disturbed her. Please convey my deep regret and embarrassment to her, and may this sincere apology find purchase in her wounded and rattled heart.
You, however, remain a butthole.
