WYFP What's your friggin problem, eh? Road Rage Edition

WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here.
Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?

Prejudice.

prej·u·dice (prj-ds)
n.
1.
a. An adverse judgment or opinion formed beforehand or without knowledge or examination of the facts.
b. A preconceived preference or idea.

2. The act or state of holding unreasonable preconceived judgments or convictions. See Synonyms at predilection

I admit it, I'm prejudiced. I feel no real need to change, as this benighted condition appears to work well for me.

Life is short, and highway conditions, gas prices, and modern music being what they are, prejudice can be a time and even a life saver. The only thing I'd quibble with is that unreasonable part.

I would argue that the fear and righteous loathing of, for example, Volkswagen drivers, is a high calling, and not at all unreasonable.

Some background first: I have been driving for about twenty five years. The first few summers without the benefit of a licence (driving on ranches and worksites and private roads in Alberta).

I have driven in Montreal.

On the Decarie Expressway.

Daily.

Those who know Montreal will know how that recommends me.

I have driven in Seoul, South Korea.

And lived.

Those who know pure driving chaos and Armageddon will know how that recommends me.

In short, I have experience in driving in the most adverse of conditions, terrains, and ecosystems, even Toronto.

It is my sincere belief that I would not have lasted long enough to make a right turn signal had I not cultivated a few time and life saving prejudices along the way.

Herewith a compendium of a bit of my self admitted odious prejudicial wisdom.

1. Volkswagens (other than Beetles) are driven by brainless zombies and suicidal morons.

My next door neighbour (an avowed expert) concurs. Ralph says that VW advertises with the slogan "Drivers Needed" as a subtle warning to regular folk that their client base is somewhat deficient in the driving skills and opposable thumbs department.

VW drivers tend to tailgate, cut in, speed in the slow lane, dawdle in the passing lane, drive single in the HOV lane, pass in the exit ramp lane, and generally drive HUHA style (Head up His/Her Ass).

(At this point I would like to claim credit for not going the cheap route and making the descent into Godwin's Law territory, but I can't resist. So sue me.)

Whenever I see one of these kampfenwagen descendants in the rear view mirror I am tempted to run away and hide in Vichy for a few years. Must be the Franco part of my heritage.

2. Ford Taurus drivers must get a charge of psychic energy, or perhaps even a sexual thrill, from cutting in front of people and slowing down to a crawl.

This happens too often to be coincidence. Its either a contractual obligation on purchase or lease, or in the owner's manual, or programmed into the online system.

Also Taurus drivers, IME, wear "Old Man" hats and have bald spots. Even the women.

They also smell funny.

3. Soccer Moms and Dads in Mississauga Limousines (Dodge Caravans) will stop suddenly, at least once enroute, and try to merge across two lanes of traffic. It is guaranteed.

In my more generous moods I like to put that down to the fact that having eight plus athletic kids jumping around the back seats would distract anyone from such things as exit signs and merges and fellow drivers and impending doom.

But I've seen this happen when the driver is the only person in the car. It might be a conditioned reflex.

Before I finish, I want credit for not going the easy and obvious route of slagging SUV pigs, BMW and Mercedes Prigs, BOOMbox cars, Teeny Tiny Honda Tokyo Drifte Wannabes with Neon underlights, and Buicks (God I hate them!)

Come Monday morning, like it or not, I'm back on the road at five a.m.for a daily two hour commute. It won't be pretty.

Note: If you are personally affronted by my generalities and slurs, I apologize. You see, I share your pain.

I drive one of the cars described above. God help me.