Notice to:

[LSPoorEeyorick]

Notice to the dude in the muscle car:

Goodness. You were in quite a rush as you sped up the ziggity-zaggity inclines at the Burbank City Center last week. I was getting out of my car and I heard you squeal up behind me, then squeal up the incline across from me, and up the inclines ad infinitum.

Were you urgently requiring a bathroom? Was your wife in labor? Did you discover that, instead of being Made you were about to get Whacked, requiring burned rubber to prevent your inclusion in a dead body montage to the tune of Derek and the Dominoes' "Layla"? If, in fact, it was the latter example, I'd suggest pulling into any of the myriad open spots and dashing into the mall where you might lay low in, say, Hot Topic. Bonus: you'd be able to dye your hair blue and purchase any number of shirts featuring a character from Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, or Lord of the Rings, thus defining yourself as neo-fuzzy-Punk (or, if you prefer, poseur.)

If not, then, well-- I think you should know that the kind of girl who's impressed with that kind of driving will also be the kind of girl who isn't impressed with your biological shortcomings.