Urinate On Your Collective Upholstery

So, you decided to return did you? Well that says a lot more about you than it does me. It tells me that you are amused by my words, agree with my opinions or your bored and are looking to fill a gap between eating and watching TV. Welcome back to all who returned and enjoy the next few paragraphs of mindless fertilizer.

I’m going to be attacking random categories of people in the next few instalments, just so you’re aware. It will mainly be people that you also dislike but not to the extent that you would publish it in a blog. My first “type” of person is the BMW driver. Now, I have friends that drive BMW’s and they are good people with good intentions...I think, but put them behind the wheel of the German engineered death machine and I instantly want to urinate on their collective upholstery. It isn’t so much the car that I dislike, it’s the mindset that the driver has once the ignition is turned on and the handbrake is removed. They instantly believe in their deluded heads that they own the road and no one would dare question the reason why they cut up old people and inexperienced drivers in order to gain a few extra yards on a busy B-road.

I have been driving for 9 months now and, despite a few scrapes with bollards and fences, my car is still getting me around. I can honestly say that at least 80% of my “near misses” have involved BMW drivers. The remaining 20% are probably various vans and Chelsea tractors. 80% is too much to be a coincidence. I accept that most of those incidents may have been my inexperience and lack of road knowledge, but I don’t accept that more often than not on the other end is a suave tosser in a grey suit that some Debenhams sales assistant said was “satin silver,” holding his Blackberry whilst trying to steer and talk on speaker phone, paying zero attention to the Honda Civic Saloon (family air loom) on his left that is trying desperately not to swerve into the curb where an old dear is happily decomposing slowly on a bench.

I have recently been a passenger in a BMW owned by one of my best friends. He took me from my residence to the pub where we watched footy and had a cheeky pint. I have to say the ride is very comfortable and you do feel superior in a strangely British way. You know, the same British superiority feeling that you get when you jump a queue because you know someone, or when you finish mowing the lawn and peer over your neighbour’s fence to see how much nicer your garden looks to theirs. It is that same feeling and I get it, your car is better than mine well done. This doesn’t mean that your car has any more right to the road than mine and it doesn’t mean you can disregard other road users on your relentless mission you seem to be undertaking.

Overtaking is a big issue in my limited experience of driving. Usually my car struggles in the high gears to muster up the speed in which to overtake, but nevertheless I attempt it and usually look a bit of an idiot. If I spend more than 10 minutes behind the same car and it is consistently going 10 miles per hour under the speed limit, I get understandably annoyed. I then proceed in trying to overtake said vehicle at the earliest, safest opportunity. I push my foot closer to the floor, signal with my right indicator to warn other road users I am about to move into the oncoming lane. I get my car up to a decent speed and slowly move up alongside the car in front. It is at that point that I realise I am not driving a Golf GTI or a Subaru Impreza, so my acceleration isn’t quite in the same league. I trundle along trying to overtake but eventually the car alongside me slows down in order to let me pass. Truly embarrassing not only to be involved in but, I’m sure, to watch as well.

I really do love my car to be honest, plus it’s my first car so it will always be special to me. It has character and personality that you just don’t get from newer models. I often joke that my Civic is not an A to B car but more of an A to A and a half. I argue with it a lot as well, the damned thing never does what I tell it to and usually you need to ask it twice whenever accelerating and changing gear. I am nostalgic towards it as well; I named it “The Delorean” after the Back to the Future films. The only reasons I can think of is that the Delorean broke down a lot in the films and If I ever got it up to 88 miles per hour it would probably send me anywhere through time as well. Anyway it’s time for me to end this post so have a good week whatever your doing and thanks for reading...