I am, apparently, a bad driver. This is according to my father, husband and sons. Oh, and every other man that has ever seen me drive. Do I agree? Maybe. Do I care? No.
I believe that men are better drivers than women in one specific area. Spacial awareness. Most women (and there are exceptions), have no concept of the space around them. They cannot judge distance. It annoys me to no end in the school parking lot where one woman will take up enough parking spaces for three cars.
I last parallel parked twenty-odd years ago when I went for my driver’s licence, which I had to re-do two or three times. And then about two years ago when my son challenged me. I did it successfully but have to add, it was a huge space. So I would rather drive around looking for parking, than trying to parallel-park. It is for men.
I am a bit of an aggressive driver, I will confess. And I tend to drive fast. I have no patience on road and cannot stand snails in the fast lane. Why, why, why are you sitting in the overtaking lane, when you need to be overtaken?
I use my hooter a lot and if you have ever been on South African roads, you will understand the necessity thereof.
I overtake and tailgate, I signal, hoot and gesture. I worry that when I stop doing it, it will be a sign that I am getting old.
But here I have to add something. The car you drive makes a big difference to how you drive. Or rather, a good car increases impatience.
I drive a 320d. A Beemer. And no thank you, I don’t want any other car other than perhaps a 330d. My car is like a faithful Boerperd (South African horse breed). It is willing and has all the power necessary to do what I ask. I never have to use force; a gentle nudge is all it takes.
And for people who complain about BMW drivers, this is what I say to you: “I drive like this, because I CAN!”
Now move over and go sulk at home.