I have a theory

about cars. You know, those giant machines of destruction that we pretend are for transportation? Yeah, those.

 

Those things I WISH could do this, minus Shia Lebaskjdlf and Michael Bay.

Have you ever noticed how being in a car turns you into an unaccountable rage monster? Like, someone cuts you off in traffic, and you yell terrible things like, “WHAT THE BALL-BURN ARE YOU THINKING YOU SHIT NUGGET?” and threaten to do all sorts of NC-17 things to their mother. What is that about? Why do we do that?

I teach at a university that lacks enough parking for its faculty. So I usually show up an hour early, because I’m a loser, and wait, parked in a place I’m not allowed to park, until someone comes and gets in their car and leaves. Usually I park on the side of the lot and wait, but people had left their cars there, so I was stationed in the white crossed-off zone of doom area (Why do they do that? Why?). I was the first car there to wait. And then suddenly there were like six cars there waiting.

I should get the first spot that opens up, right? I mean, I was there waiting the longest. IT’S ONLY FAIR AND I’M A YOUNGEST CHILD AND I GET WHAT I WANT.

#WHYISNOONETAKINGMESERIOUSLY???

Well, all of us are parked there waiting, when another car pulls into this giant lot and, lo and behold, some very old professor dude starts walking to his car. And this car that JUST got into the lot followed him and pounced on that spot.

And I was all like, um, WHAT AND THE ACTUAL FUCK. I was journalling at the time, and that’s exactly what I wrote. I started writing furiously about what a dickbag this guy was when clearly there were cars waiting, and I was getting all huffy and ready to rip my shirt off hulk-style. (Now that I think about it, had I done that, I might’ve gotten the spot after all.)

Then a man started walking in, and I was like MINE ALL MINE ALL MINE and started backing out of my spot. Then the car in the nonspot across the aisle from me started to do the same thing. I backed up faster and honked my horn at them and was about ready to get out and have a rumble in the bronx. If by the bronx I mean way-far-out-Long-Island. Sans Jackie Chan. So, like, a street fight.

I followed the man only to see a woman in a car waiting at the end of the aisle. She was going to take that spot, but she was pulled too far forward. So I started stalking the man like a cheetah stalks it’s prey. Except I was in a vehicle, and I was about four feet away from him.

Look, I’m not proud of any of this.

And then he got in his car and the woman had backed up enough so she could take the spot. I turn on my blinker and start waving my arms furiously, signalling that if she takes this spot I will not hesitate in turning this parking lot into a wrestling ring. And the lady, bless her soul, must have smelled the rage BO emanating from my pores because she backed up and let me have the spot.

After I parked, I went up to her window and thanked her brusquely, like she had still done something wrong, explained that I had been waiting twenty minutes, and told her to have a great day.

I walked away from my car and thought, “seriously, if that dumb bitch up there had gotten out before me, I would’ve fought her.”

A caricature of myself. Now you know why I eat so much spinach.

And I realized that I was saying horrible things about someone I had no idea about. That person could win a Nobel Peace Prize someday. Or be the best mother ever. Or tutor 400 kids and help them achieve their dreams. As I started walking to my building, I began to laugh. I realized that the entire time I was worked up about something completely unimportant. I had gotten super territorial. I wanted to destroy those people.

And then my theory was formed: What if people become douchebags in their cars because of some weird biological wiring? Think about it. For thousands of years people had to fight other people in order to survive, and then they started using animals to aid in their fights, and then eventually they got on horses and used those to fight.

What if when someone cuts us off, or takes our parking spot, or rear-ends us because they’re too busy using Tinder to drive like a real person–what if those things make us angry because it’s a challenge to our autonomy (HA. A pun)? We’re territorial, we’re using our beast to control our territory, and someone’s going to come up and mess with that?

Then I started wondering about what a magnificent place the world would be if there were no cars, and we could rely on, like, transporters from star trek. And I realized that, even then there would be those people that would jump into it right in front of us and we’d come out with our head attached to their shoulder and their arm sticking out of our ass.

Kind of like this, only with more limbs and less Mel Brooks. (Or MORE Mel Brooks)

Categories:

Humor, Writing

29 Comments

You must visit India… I used to have a driver, and would alight at my destination. Now, I don’t, and I prowl like a hungry predator looking for parking!

I may have wet myself laughing at you. (I cannot say for sure in front of the universe.) You simply must write more often…I, you, we could all invest in Depends! Your twisted delightfulness is missed.

I think there were actual scientific studies on how being inside a car enhances our innate douchebaggery. If there are no such studies, then here is your shot at Nobel Prize, with which you could probably get a reserved personal parking space.

Yesterday I beeped a guy to move as the lights were green to find out he was just pulled over and I had sat behind him for ten minutes for no reason!!

I was furious but laughed hysterically at the same time! Think I’m safer walking! X

“I teach at a university that lacks enough parking for its faculty. So I usually show up an hour early, because I’m a loser, and wait, parked in a place I’m not allowed to park, until someone comes and gets in their car and leaves.”

We work together, don’t we? If I am going to be late ,I take the time to come in at lunchtime where someone usually has no choice but to go out so I don’t have to hunt for a space.

I must be one of those rare birds who does not experience road rage. I just don’t. I see enough people who do and simply don’t understand why they get all worked up. I laughed at your post. People should really laugh more and rage less! 🙂

So, I just stopped peeling my pants to write this. Your words- hilarious and oh so true! I can’t even begin to tell you how often I’ve turned into a raging monster/ psycho sailor mouth in the car. It’s altogether ridiculous, actually. If my words had ever been recorded and then played back for my family and friends, only a few would believe they came from me. 😉 Thank you for giving me something to ponder on my way out the door today.

I keep asking my hubby when he is going to get off his arse and invent the transporter…my commute is seriously too long! But the guy is too busy or lazy or something- so we all have to suffer. Geez.

I take public transport: tram train bus….I have the same issues. People sitting next to their purses like it’s a person itself that deserves a seat, even though we are like sardines in the joint….people ramming each other to get on the train, barging in front of one another…I do say shit, too. But it’s a light version of what I would say if I had the armor of a car to protect me. Hahaha, very funny post and glad you got your spot!!

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