A lot can change about a person when they get behind the wheel of a car. For an unintimidating but charmingly gangly feller like me, a leather wheel and some plastic-covered pedals are all that’s needed to transform me into a badass deranged pilot behind 4,000 pounds of steel, glass, and polymers.
I become feared by the lowly occupants of the world outside my vehicle.
I am a death machine, and I like it.
Maybe I’ll paint my car like a dragon. or Nancy Pelosi. Whichever is scarier. I’ll take a poll.
I crank up my Britney Spears album and roll the windows down so you know I’m coming. And not that crappy “Crazy” stuff, I’m talking “My Prerogative” and “.Baby One More Time.” You know, her darker stuff, back when she was into underwear and seatbelts: I roll hard.
It’s my damn prerogative if I want to tag someone with my car; you hear the Pelosi-mobile bumping “hit me baby, one more time,” you better hide.
Whether it’s burning out through a crosswalk, speeding through a school zone, or power-sliding into a senior citizen Hover-round tour group, it’s all good fun.
Cyclists are fun because they can come in contact with your bumper more easily: “Oops! I did it again” is the way these encounters always start.
“Sorry man, didn’t see you there! Well, no, I wouldn’t say you were DIRECTLY in front of me.Did I speed up? What kind of question is that? No, I think your elbow bent like that before you got in my bumper’s way. That’s just ketchup, I won’t fall for that.”
How could pedestrians and bicyclists not see the righteousness of my mode of transportation? They deserve what they get: a mud splash and a fender-rub.
Yes, yes, your handlebars can be replaced and that kneecap will heal, but I permanently lost those precious 15 seconds I could have saved if you wouldn’t have crossed the street in front of me: a line is forming for the 7:15 showing of Scary Movie 6, and it’s already 6 o’clock! I need to get the seats where there is the railing you can put your feet up on!
Can’t you see Nancy on the hood? She’s hungry for your flesh! Move! I’m late!
The audacity of these travelers! If you don’t have a car or choose not to drive it to school you should at least have the common decency to travel incognito, hiding behind adjacent objects when I pass in my righteous-mobile.
Can you imagine? Sharing my road with the ingrates of transportation?
You’ve got to nip this bad behavior in the butt whenever you see it.
I like to yell things out my window to cyclists who dare encroach upon my territory: “Use the sidewalk!”
Haha! Little do they know, the sidewalk is packed snow and ice; a good crash on a sidewalk when they try to avoid a pedestrian will show them.
Hey, maybe I’ll get a two-fer and the cyclist, now relegated to the sidewalk because of my brilliant out-of-window taunt, will crash into a group of pedestrians, injuring all parties involved to the extent that they’re all forced to take the bus. I can only hope.
I’m also exploring the idea of throwing objects out of my sunroof or something.
I mean I’m just driving, right? What else do I need to pay attention to, outside of my immediate enemies?
Oh, this will be beautiful: I will be on the phone with my buddy who’s also in his car, and we can coordinate when we throw projectiles. I’m thinking balled-up coupons for gas or maybe bus passes.
Ultimately, bicycles and foot-travel pollute the air with frustration, annoyance, and blood vapor. So please, the next time you reach for your walking shoes or bicycle-lock keys I implore you, reconsider. It may just be your life or my time you save.
Drew Haugen is a senior international studies major. His column appears every Monday in the Collegian. Replies and feedback can be sent to email@example.com.