I was driving home today, and had the pleasure of driving next to the most insane and stereotypical redneck driver I've ever seen.
The guy peeled out to make a questionable right turn into the lane next to me, flooring it to avoid the traffic coming behind him. He and his buddy riding shotgun were in this blue late '80s truck with a jacked up suspension and rust coloration, with a rattling engine that made a pop when he floored it.
To make things more interesting, there was some hotdog in a Volkswagen Jetta (a Jetta!) who evidently didn't like the redneck turning in front of him. He naturally guns it and cuts me off (I was going something like 48 mph in a 40 area, so he was probably 55-60) in preparation to pass the redneck. The redneck didn't take kindly to this challenge to his sexual orientation, so he also guns it and they now proceed to race in front of me.
Here I am laughing my ass off at what just happened, and I see the Jetta successfully pass the redneck. In a moment of pure passion, the redneck actually threw a case of Mountain Dew (I shit you not, I recognized the green pattern, it just had to be Mountain Dew didn't it?) OUT THE DRIVER SIDE WINDOW, landing in front of me. I assumed it's empty, and didn't have time to swerve without risking hitting someone, so I just slowed a bit and ran over it.
For frame of reference, I'm driving a beige late '90s Toyota Camry that rides really low to the ground, probably the most unassuming car on the road. To my wonderful surprise, the box actually still had cans of Mountain Dew in it. He wasn't just chucking trash out his window into the street, it was still full of sweet redneck nectar. After the initial explosion and the spray of mountain dew behind me, a ripped up can or some other debris got lodged somewhere and was now making a noise as I continued driving (it sounded just like a blown tire, which was what I was expecting).
I managed to pull into a turning lane ahead and jump out to check the tires, which were actually fine, despite smelling like Mountain Dew. Shortly afterward as I was making the turn whatever it was got dislodged from the wheel well or wherever, and when I got an opportunity to crawl under the car all I found was a scrap of cardboard from the box.
It all just seemed too perfectly redneck to be true, like a spiritual event on the road to Damascus, but with more country music and car damage.