Archive for April 29th, 2011

“Describe the worst driver you know.”

That would actually consist of a number of drivers in my neighborhood, all of them women.

Now, before everybody jumps down my throat:  I do remember when men routinely made Female Driver jokes.  It was back in the 1950s and 1960s, and yes, they were very offensive.  It was due to those jokes that I made a point of learning how to drive a stick shift and how to do basic car maintenance.   Also how to use the rear-view mirror for driving, and not for putting on makeup.

Fast-forward fifty years.  Thanks partly to feminism and partly to what passes for education nowadays, girls and women have a sense of Entitlement.  They can Be All They Can Be, the Sky’s the Limit, the only barrier that remains to be shattered is the Glass Ceiling (which was actually shattered a number of years ago, but why mess with a good myth?) — and they can drive as if they own the road, because they do.  Men can’t make Female Driver jokes without getting sued, but women can make all the Guy Jokes they want, and nobody says anything.

One of the major employers in this area is a large national insurance company.  About fifteen years ago, they demolished several cute houses along a peaceful rural road, paid the city to widen the dratted thing, and planted a huge complex in the middle of some of the most desirable farmland in the county.  Now we have a 24-hour Beacon of Industry, literally since the building’s lights never go out, that extended the city’s commercial district into its Farm Zone.  We have McMansions where there used to be forests.  We have traffic lights where there weren’t even roads.  And, from six until ten a.m. and from three until seven p.m., we have cars clogging up our once-peaceful rural existence.  The turnpike is stop-and-go.  The main secondary artery is stop-and-go.  So is the rural road that most of use to get between two cities eight miles apart.

And ninety percent of these drivers are women.  Putting on makeup.  Turning around to admonish the children they’re dropping off at daycare.  Yammering on the umbilical cord cell phone for the entire distance.  Texting on same, which is actually illegal, but what the heck.  Running red lights — I mean, most of us in this neck of the woods take a yellow light to mean “Go like hell,” but an actual red light?!  Tailgating, by which I mean clinging to the bumper of the car in front, not having picnics prior to sports events.

I’ve made a point of looking at who drives like this.  And so help me Hannah, every single really crummy driver in this area is a woman.  And most of them work for Liberty Mutual — since Liberty Mutual is located on a posted private road, and all these cars are driving on that private road, it stands to reason they work there.

And I’m supposed to insure my vehicle with a company whose own employees can’t observe the common-courtesy rules of the road?!

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