I live near a private school. Every second goddam car that comes to pick up little Cynthia is a [giantswearword] Cayenne or Landcruiser or Land Rover or some other fat-arse 4WD that has no business in Melbourne's eastern suburbs. I have no problem with 4WDs
per se as I learned to drive in a 1983 diesel Nissan Patrol - but then I grew up on 40 acres of hilly scrubland with miles and miles of crappy old dirt tracks going all over the property. Without 4WD I wouldn't have been able to see half our land, especially if it was raining. We only had the Nissan because it was necessary, otherwise Dad would've stuck with his endless succession of Minis.
Why you need a 300hp Cayenne to pick up your 10th grader is utterly beyond me. Is it ever going to see dirt? Maybe if junior jumps in without taking off his football boots first - and believe me there'll be hell to pay if he does! And if you are going to drive a giant car, ffs drive it like it's a big car! Don't fling it around like it's someone else's Camry. It weighs 2 tons for god's sake!
Tailgaters - my favourite. Especially the ones who ride so far up your rear that you can't even see their number plate in your mirror. Yes, those bastards who sit right on you and duck left and right, trying to see a way past you - even though it's bloody obvious that there's a guy in front of you who's stuck behind several other guys who are stuck behind some hat-wearing lawn-bowler in a Datsun Sunny doing 35 in a 60 zone. Or even worse - behind a tram (the scourge of the Melbourne driver)!
Taxis. The ones who stick their lights on high beam while looking for an address and don't turn them down when you approach - and then look at you like you're Hitler ass you pass by if you happen to flash them a couple of times so they'll stop blinding you.
Straddlers. Right lane - tram tracks. Left lane - empty. Idiot - driving slowly between the two lanes, quite often a taxi driver who has no clue which direction he's taking at the next intersection. Pick a bloody lane and let people who have a clue get past you!
Utter sad bastards. You can usually hear the bass before you hear the car - probably the result of spending more cash beefing up t3h ph@ subz than actually making the car perform better. Usually weighed down by homeboys in white baseball caps and pre-amps, so are quite easy to drag off
Complete no-hopers. I was on the bicycle, threading my way through two lanes of stopped traffic in the CBD of Melbourne. I almost get to the line but there's one car in the right lane, at the front, a little closer to the left lane than the others. No problem, I think "ok, wait for the green". Bing! Green. The left lane isn't moving - they're all turning left but they're waiting for pedestrians to cross first. Lady in front of me doesn't move. Just sitting there - apparently has no idea that green means go. She's not indicating to turn right so she can't be waiting for traffic to come through from the other direction. I tap on the rear of her car and point to the light. "Green! Go!" I say. Nothing. It's going to be yellow any second. I raise my voice. "GREEN! GO!" Looks at me, looks at the light, doesn't move. She looks so utterly lost it's like she's suddenly been transported through time and space from a dimension which doesn't have either cars or coloured lights. There's a tiny gap for me now, the left lane has moved a bit so I can squeeze through. On my way past the stricken idiot I shout "GREEEEN! GO YOU FSCKING IDIOT" and by the time I reach the other side the light's yellow. I turn around to see if she's cottoned on yet and I'm flabbergasted to see that she's still just sitting there as the light turns red, apparently oblivious to the flashing and honking behind her. The silly part is that there were other people in the car who should've been able to tell her to just accelerate gently and cross the intersection. I suppose not. I just have to assume that her two friends/relatives were equally mentally challenged.
[/rant] Good thread. Had to vent! I won't mention the numerous near-misses I've had on the bike in the city, I've gone on long enough for one day. But for the record it's a bright orange bike, I wear a bright red helmet and it has a flashing red light on it. If you can't see me, you
deserve to have me splattered on your windscreen as well as the associated nightmares
I think the fact that I cycle to work every day has made me sensitive to motorised idiocy, so when I drive I'm acutely aware of the high proportion of drivers who may well have found their licenses in the gutter, in the pocket of a drunker derelict, written in crayon on a square of toilet paper.