The Jovial Ghosts: The Misadventures of Topper by Thorne Smith

Before the sun had set Mr. Topper had left a trail of dust across his native state and carried warfare deep into the heart of Connecticut. Like a floating mine in an ocean lane he endangered the safety and ruined the happiness of all creatures who came his way. His intentions were above reproach had he been able to execute them, but in this he failed lamentably. He was a travelling display of frightfulness, a menace to moving traffic. The curses of his fellow-creatures followed him down the road. He had never before realised how vindictive, how utterly given to fury, automobilists were. Sarcasm, insults and jeers, all were flung at Mr. Topper, and all found their mark. He shrank within himself and placed his destiny in the hands of God. But long hours of sustained driving effected a gradual change in his spirits, and towards sunset it was Topper who was shouting bitter oaths at passing automobiles. Each oath increased his confidence and self-respect, until at last he came to regard with malicious pleasure the approach of another car, epithets fairly boiling on his tongue.

"They've tried to ruin my day for me," he thought. "I might as well get back at them now."