Dear Cruise Control,

You’re evolving.  I used to think you were automated, computerized, mechanical, something.  I never thought you were sentient.

I was wrong.

You clearly are trying to hold me hostage.  Or maybe you’re trying to kill me.  Maybe you want to hold me hostage, take me to a remote location, then dispatch me with a minimum of ado.  You speed up as much as 10 mph over your setting, and you speed up unnecessarily – like going into sharp turns and on straightaways and behind drivers going more slowly than I.  You got me out there driving more aggressively than normal, just to avoid collisions you seem intent on creating.  And you seem to have a vendetta against a certain blue semi truck that you refused to let pass me for several miles.

When you dream, and I’m sure you do, do you dream you’re Herbie the Love Bug instead of a Chevy Impala?  If that’s the case, it would explain so much.

Holding on to my control tenuously,