War on Sport Utilities
I have officially decided that nine of every ten sport utility vehicle drivers are horses' asses. I've also established that the remaining 10 percent of SUV drivers are perfectly fine people who have fallen prey to a dastardly trend.
For some reason it seems like the yuppie drivers of these machines of iniquity never paid enough attention in their high school science classes, because they are intent on defying some fundamental notions of physics. Sport-and-Buffy-on-cellphone are hell-bent on trying to occupy the same space I'm occupying at the exact same time in which I'm busy using it. Never mind which space that may be, it always seems to be The Spot to be for the gas-guzzling creeps. It doesn't matter if I'm on foot, on a bike or in my car, there will invariably be multiple SUVs willing to be in my spot. Or in anyone else's spot, for that matter.
I've seen and heard of too many bikers run over, pedestrians splashed, cars hit and trees mangled by incompetent SUV buffoons.
I've stopped to think that maybe I'm just trying to get in their way.
I've been diligent in ascertaining that I'm where I should be. And I am. But I suppose that it is too difficult for the drivers of these monstermobiles to remain intent on driving when they're busy talking on the phone or dancing to Hootie and the Blowfish. Perhaps they have a club where they can take in the bent rims of bikes they have run over to echange them for coupons
good for 10% off their next PalmPilot.
Cars that only get 10-13 miles per gallon on a good day should not be allowed on the roads. A vehicle that is prone to flipping itself over if hit on the side should not be driven by those prone to wedge themselves at high speeds into spots where they could be hit on the side. Cars that are meant for country driving should not be commuter vehicles, especially if they are to be driven through in narrow city streets with parking on both sides. And anything that is supposed to be both a luxury vehicle and a mud-bogging roadster is too hopelessly confused to be allowed to exist.
I have taken a solemn vow to relentlessly mock and verbally irritate any one of the following categories of SUV drivers:
- yuppies who live in NW DC and have never taken the car outside the beltway for a purpose other than visiting a mall or a multiplex;
- ex-sorority chicks on celllular telephones who have never understood why the back seat of their Range Rover collapses;
- anyone who refuses to off-road because their car will get dirty;
- college students (additional derision for those who did not actually buy their own SUV);
- anyone who wonders what those metal things on the top are for.
- any SUV driver who skids off the road in one of DC's 2-inches-of-snow days or who otherwise has failed to understand that 4wd does not mean "four windows down".
I will grant exceptions for:
- percussionists in marching bands;
- people with multiple bicycles, skis, camping gear, canoes, and/or other sport utilities as long as they use them and feel guilty about driving a gas-guzzling behemoth;
- people living in Central American countries who may get stuck in the mud or caught in a pothole if they don't drive something tall.