Imagine that you’re driving in your lane, going past the speed limit with no other car in sight. The roads are empty, you’re blasting your favorite music and you’re happy. Suddenly, a heavily tinted Lancer appears out of thin air behind you, revving its engine while tailgating you. When you make no move to step aside, they take the liberty to speed past you. Sparing their nonsense some form of entertainment, you look at the driver just to find an annoyed man looking at you as they floor it away. All the while, you’re left there wondering what the hell just happened.
If I had a dollar for every time this situation has occurred to me I would be out of student loan debt.
Look, I’m not the fastest driverー I’ll be the first one to admit to that. I stick to the speed limit and, when I don’t want to, I move to the right laneーthe slow lane. Hell, I don’t even have an impressionable car; I have a Smart car. Nothing about a Smart car screams “race me”. I follow the rules and stay out of trouble because I don’t have a need to prove I’m the next Dominic Toretto. I just want to get back and forth from my destination. So that begs the question: why the hell do men take it as a challenge whenever I am coexisting in the same road space? I don’t have an answer, much less a reasonable explanation for this phenomenon. What I can do, however, is share my stories in the hopes that someone else can relate.
The Lancer story is one of the manyー and I could spend an absurd amount of time talking about thisー but I’ll shorten it to just three memorable stories.
Too-Big-for-a-Lane Tacoma
It’s 8 am, I’m on my way to work, and the roads are heavy and filled with other drivers like me. We’re all tired and barely present, so everyone is driving at a comfortable speed of an average of 50 miles an hourーwell, almost everybody. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a red pickup truck slamming on the gas pedal, driving in the middle of the two lanes, and pushing some drivers to invade others. The pickup truck chooses the right lane, the one that will turn into an exit further up the road. I exhale, thinking I’m safe from the chaotic driver since we’re parting ways soon. Except as soon as we reach the exit point, he’s driving beside me, and he suddenly decides he wants to stay on the road. So what does he do? Does he break and put himself in the open spot behind me? No, it appears he’d rather cause a collision by driving into my car without a care in the world. Luckily, I have more brain cells than him, so I slam my brakes and end up on the spot behind him. By this point, I have cursed him and his entire ancestry. Does he stop there? No, he has the gall to fix his rearview mirror and raise his hand at me, as if I was the one at fault! By this point, I make sure to add his descendants to the list of my curses.
No-Will-to-Live Classic Toyota
This time, I’m on my way home on a heavy Thursday. The heat is scalding and I’m exhausted from studying all night last night and working an eight-hour shift. I know my senses aren’t the best, so I’m driving at 40 miles an hour in the slow lane. I have no one behind me because everyone is aware I’m driving like an old lady, and I don’t care. I just want to get home safely. I have no will to fight, so much so that I let everyone pass and merge without an ounce of annoyance.
My exit is approaching so I become more animated, except that there’s a series of businesses by the road and I can see an old and beaten Toyota making its way to the road. I slow down to let him pass, except he sees me and shakes his head. I frown, confused. Because I think this is his cue to let me pass, I speed up to 40 mph. That is until I am right before him and he decides that he will not only enter the lane I’m in but slam his breaks to a screeching halt. I lose all the air in my lungs and almost leave a hole in my car floor with how hard I slammed on my brakes. When I look up, shocked, he turns around to smile at me. I watch in shock as he drives while consecutively crossing three lanes to make a U-turn. I have no energy to fight, just to continue driving until I reach the school in front of my house where I stop my car to process what the hell just happened.
I-Need-to-Race-You Hyundai
By this point, I’m beyond fed up with men on the road. I have no hope for them and I wear a permanent glare as I try to maneuver between selfish idiots. The intersection is approaching and the traffic light signals red. I stop, making myself the first one on the lane. Beside me, a low-riding Hyundai comes to an abrupt stop; its driver is looking at his phone and I’m absentmindedly looking around while I wait for the light to turn green. Except we accidentally make eye contact and I regret it immediately. I turn to look at other things, but I can feel him staring at meー, or my car for that matterーand the uncomfortableness starts to creep in. The light finally turns green.
Now, one fun fact about Smart cars is that they are semi-automatics, meaning they don’t have a clutch pedal but you can change gears through paddle shifters if you’d like. This makes their engineー which I find too boisterous for such a small vehicleーloud as hell as it gains speed and changes gears as a manual would; a particular sound that, much to my dismay, is the main attractor of unwanted attention in my case.
I start my car and immediately it begins to gain speed. The Hyundai beside me is nose to nose with me, and I can feel the driver’s stare growing stronger. By this point, I want the earth to swallow me because the thing I was dreading occurs just as we reach the next intersection. He revs his engine at me and I don’t even hide it when I facepalm because, why the hell would I race him? Once again, what part of a Smart car screams Fast and the Furious? This situation occurs three times; but by the third, he’s annoyed at my indifference so he proceeds to invade my lane and rev his engine at the next intersectionーleaving me momentarily deafーbefore driving away. At that moment, all my hope for humanity was lost for good. Well, just a little.
So here you go, three stories that have no explanation whatsoever but have two common denominators: men and shitty driving. I wish I could say my life as a Smart car driver has improved after these occurrences; but sadly, I still have more stories to tell and I’m sure more will come. From having to prove my space around pickup trucks to having to lose unwanted attention from customized Hyundais, I have heard and seen it all. One thing for sure is, I have to thank them for making me fearless. If I ever drive a bigger car, it will be a piece of cake, as I’ve been in a constant battle driving my fun-sized car. For now, I will continue to ride my golf cart while I finish my degree.