Ye of little class

I’d like to preface this long awaited entry by saying that in all non-specific terms and with swooping generalization (redundant redundancy), that I hate other drivers. Maybe it’s because everyone has their own driving style? Maybe it’s because of inconsiderate drivers? I don’t know. What I do know is that our current laws around driving do not address the growing slow and stupid factor we’re faced with today. But I digress. You see, the real focus of my entry is not the aptitude of drivers; rather it’s the lack of courtesy of motoring enthusiasts.

Picture yourself driving down a tree lined windy road. The sun is shining bright, you’ve just washed your car and you’re enjoying every minute of your pleasure cruise, when in the distance you make out an oncoming vehicle in the opposite lane. My first instinct is ti try and figure out the make/model of the car. In this case it was a third generation (1980s) Chevrolet Camaro. Now, as fan of American pony and muscle cars, I can appreciate almost brand/model of automobile. I am however partial to the Ford Mustang line of automobiles. As some of you may know, the rivalry amongst the Mustang and Camaro crowd is no secret. I could care less about rivalries, and distance myself from any “Who’s Better” arguments. For me, debating cars between enthusiasts is like eating the crab salad at a Chinese buffet. You just don’ do that shit.

Well, back to my pleasure cruise down Mississauga road. So, I see this guy in a 5-tone (Yeah, the quarter panels, doors and hood were all different colours) Camaro approaching with his arm out the window. As we pass each other, I can see he’s waving me the thumbs down and making a disgusted face in my direction. As I look back in my side view mirror, I can see that his arm is no longer extended out the window.

Am I to believe that this guy is so displeased with my choice of automobile and styling that he needed to let me know as we passed eachother on the road? Unfortunately, I do not doubt that this occurrence was no conincidence, or a ill-timed thumbs down to life. I would like to believe that this was all a matter of chance, but in the humble opinion of this blogger that this is not just "Something That Happened." This cannot be "One of those things..." This, please, cannot be that. And for what I would like to say, I can't. This Was Not Just A Matter Of Chance.

I would just like to announce my limited tolerance for disrespectful people. If you are a stranger and disapprove of my car, hair style, choice of clothes or cologne, please keep it to yourself. If you’d like to comment on my mind-barf of a story, please feel free to. My views on this topic are up for debate


Italicized text was inspired by P.T Anderson’s 1998 film Magnolia