You know what really burns my biscuits? Hesitant turners. Like do you need an engraved invitation to get the hell out of the way? I don’t expect one to slide in Smokey and the Bandit style at every change of direction, but the snail mail pace of some dead head drivers is too much to take. I shouldn’t be able to write a symphony to your suckiness while waiting for you to remove your foot from the brake and your head from the turd factory. Burnt biscuits never killed anyone, but t-t-t-today Junior!