Drive my car

I’ve developed a theory, using an unscientific method, that determines a driver’s personality based on the make of their car.

This is solely based on observations made on the Palmetto Expressway in Miami, FL and does not necessarily apply to how you conduct yourself outside of your car.

For instance, I can only determine that the driver of a BMW is only an asshole while he/she is in their car and on the Palmetto. However, I cannot assert with certainty that he/she is an asshole outside of their car (even though we all know they are most likely an even bigger asshole on foot).

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Acura: You may think that big “A” on your hood represents the make of your car, but it really stands for “Asshole-in-training.” Although you aspire to drive a BMW, you are not quite there yet. Your angst to make it to BMW-Asshole-Status is apparent in the way you abruptly change lanes and end up behind a 16-wheeler going 20 miles under the speed limit.

Audi: You must be a Buddhist, Audi driver. I’ve never seen such serenity and control on the Palmetto. Even when you are pushed to the limit by some asshole in a BMW applying concealer and/or lip gloss, you gracefully pull around him/her without flinching.

Cadillac: Why are you on the Palmetto at this hour? You could have selected the 11 a.m. time slot for your mammogram, but now look at you: Stressed, sweaty and hunched over your steering wheel, while you check the blind spot created by your enormous car. Breaking news grandma, no one is going to let you in this lane, especially not the guy in the BMW 7-series, because you have your blinker on.

Chrysler: You are a tourist. We are all trying really hard to be nice.

Ford: You are a recognition-seeking driver, the kind that lets other drivers in your lane or slows down for construction workers to earn a polite wave or flicker of the high-beams. You do this to pretend that your fellow drivers are thanking you for buying an American car. You tell yourself that your purchase single-handedly saved the American car industry and that other drivers are enthusiastically chanting, “U-S-A! U-S-A!” from the inside of their modern and well-appointed foreign car that has a better warranty and much higher resale value that yours.

Honda: If you are the driver of a four-door Accord, you are the Debbie Downer of the Palmetto. I can tell by your bumper-stickers. You drive in a way that makes me think you have self-esteem issues. Maybe it’s because you don’t like yourself enough to drive a car with personality. If you are the driver of a Civic, you are going through life pretending to be a responsible adult, but you’re not fooling anyone. It’s 8:30 a.m. and you are already drunk or high or both.

Infiniti: Every time you want to be an asshole, like your friend in the BMW, you remind yourself that you are a role model. Other drivers look up to you. They are constantly checking out your car and wondering how much you make a year.

Lexus: You are old. You and the lady in the Cadillac should stay in the right lane at all times. In the event that you are not above the age of 76, it’s clear to me and the rest of the drivers on the Palmetto that you bought this car because you are trying to impress your boss or your in-laws, who drive BMWs. Regardless, you are getting no where near the left lane.

Mercedes Benz: Although you had the good sense not to buy a BMW, you drive like you own the Palmetto. Maybe you do. But your sense of entitlement is annoying. There are other people on the highway, you know. By the way, how much did you pay for your car? And you still can’t get the bluetooth to work?

Nissan: Like Honda, I can break this brand down by model. Are you the driver of a Nissan Altima? Then that means you are really angry about your job – or your life in general. You drive like you don’t want to be anywhere and that’s because you really don’t want to be anywhere. Are you the driver of a Nissan Maxima? Then that means you’ve made it. You drive just like an Infiniti driver, only with your urban music blaring. Drivers of both the Altima and Maxima could be easily coaxed into racing alongside an asshole in a BMW.

Toyota: You are one of two people. You are either an older person nearing retirement (if not retired already) or you are a young person driving the car you’ve inherited from your parents. Whoever you may be, there is a good chance that you are A) scared, B) missing car parts, C) lost or D) all of the above. Inevitably some asshole in a BMW will make you swerve off the road and you will undoubtedly poop your pants.

Jump in the pool

Carpooling
Shay.Dee.

If I were a serial killer – which I’m not, but let’s say I was – I would be hard-pressed to find victims. With so many zombie shows and vampire movies, everyone is on the lookout for shady individuals that sparkle in the sun or chew on people’s faces.

Luckily, the county where I live has come up with a way to help individuals with murderous tendencies get matched up with unsuspecting, car-less folks, with a cool $75 in their pockets. The idea probably came from watching a few episodes of The Walking Dead, where 15 strangers get to travel in two cars “to save gas.”

But, seriously. This is like legal hitch-hiking and aspiring “Dexters” and “Brodys” will be certain to use this service as target practice.

Unless. Unless this was the plan all along. What if this plan was developed by the Vampire King of Florida to capture and feed on humans. I mean, the last I heard, we’re all out of True Blood.

I need to get a hold of Carrie.

Paper news

Herald: a person or thing that precedes or comes before; forerunner; harbinger.

Herald.com: the receptacle of grammatically poor and intellectually flat commentary that sets us back the to The Dark Ages.

I wonder if Henry M. Flagler looked up the definition when he bought The Miami Evening Record and renamed it The Miami Herald. Or maybe he just got the name from an existing paper. And that’s okay. I forgive him for not getting creative with the name of our daily paper, after all he was connecting trains to Key West for Christ’s sake.

I think about Mr. Flagler a lot. Particularly in the mornings when I drive through the 826-836 bridge/merge/mess construction-situation that is happening directly under the exit sign that bears his name. There is another sign too, the one that proudly boasts a completion date of 2016. Clearly the County government and the D.O.T. are aiming to get out of finishing the project, as they’ve projected the end-date after the Apocalypse.

I also think of Mr. Flagler when I visit Herald.com. I used to receive a physical paper, but I ended my subscription on the day I opened the travel section and found a full spread about visiting Egypt – on the same day the State Department issued a travel restriction due to the flipping revolution. Just a minor oversight.

I now subscribe to the New York Times, but I still get some local tidbits from the Herald’s online edition. But, really, I just like to read the comics.

Seriously?

 

This town needs so much more than another Henry M. Flagler.