Your hands grip tightly to the steering wheel, you can feel your blood begin to boil, the first mutterings of swear words begin to fall from your mouth. If only this car in front of you would stop driving like an ass! We’re in a 60 zone and this bastard, can’t seem to get above 40! You bang your steering wheel, you scream you shout. You scream, at them from the safety of your car.
Hat Man –
Driving his old Ford Escort, with his even older wife by his side. Some could see this aging couple as cute or sweet. When driving behind them, all that cuteness evaporates in the heat of the rage that boils inside you. You know your in for a slow drive when you spot the hat. Old men in hats, seem to think that because they are old that everyone must wait for them. And yes those older than us should be given the respect they deserve. However it seems that when that hat goes on and the old lady is in sitting next to them, they seem to need a traffic jam behind them.
We’ve all seem them, driving there massive BMW’s or Mercs, covered in gold jewelery and clothed in expensive name branded items. They grasp onto their massive steering wheels with their fat hands, their massive bellies hidden behind tops. Button’s straining under the immense pressure. Thanks to this BEEuatiful country we live in, they are able to drive around all day, in behemoth gas guzzling machines, never managing to get past the third gear. With one vorgon-looking hand on the wheel and the other holding her cell phone she rattles on and on about something. Something that must be vitally important, as that call seems to go on forever. As the traffic builds up behind her, and her million rand car begs to be driven. She has the power in front of her to reach speeds that most of us would be to scared to even think about, let alone put foot and reach. She will drive at least 10kmph under the speed limit, in a world of her own, still talking on her phone, grasping the steering wheel with her chubby hands and claw like finger nails.
Blocking Brother –
You seem them cruising the streets in there semi-pimped mobile. They will have the mags and possibly the booming sound system, but unable to afford anything else they are forced to use some other means of showing the public at large that they are hardcore mother fuckers. They roll their seat all the way down, almost to the point were they are lying down while driving their car. One must ask the question, how the hell do you drive like this? When did the desire to be seen as cool over ride the ability to see out of your car? One would think that when driving a ton of metal and plastic at various speeds, the most important thing would be to see what is going on around you. The blocking brother however nullifies this danger by never driving at anything over 40 km/h. Less someone does not seem him. We see you, and you look like a dick.
Jo-Burger on the coast –
This middle to upper class white folk of South Africa tend to invaded the coastal area in mass come the holiday season. They pack their SUV’s and head to were the chance of them being shot in the face and able to see the sky not smog is abundant. They cruise the beach front, behind locked doors and flashing cameras. Only getting out of their cars, when they have found that parking spot right in front of the beach. Pasty white legs run straight to the beach, a flash of cameras and cellphones been taken out, to tell there land locked friends what the beach is like. They find them selves back onto the roads again, traffic has most likely picked up as, they Jo-burger has spent most of their day at the beach. Some switch inside them seems to be flicked, suddenly their back in Jo-burg, driving like a wild man. Weaving in and out of traffic, cutting people off, the odd rude hand gesture out of the window. Stay clam jo-burger, were not out to get you, but if you keep driving like that we maybe forced to mutter angry words when ever we see your GP number plate.
Multi-tasking soccer mom –
During the day they seem to driving about from one mall to the other, always talking on their cellphone and putting some make up on to hide their increasingly aging face. Around 2 o’clock a school bell rings and the mother goes into freak out mode, a her little rain drop is waiting outside of school and she having finished her 18th cup of coffee, she needs to get to her child before some freak kidnaps them. In an out of traffic, their massive SUV weaves, massive tyres scream and grid against the pavement as she takes the corner to wide and mounts the footpath. Cellphone in one hand, make brush in the other, chatting to her fellow soccer mom that she will soon see. Unable to stay in one lane, she chooses rather to stay in the middle of the road. She arrives at her little cutie pies school. Stepping down from her monster SUV, high heels clatter on the foot path as she races to pick up her kids.
Then back into the thick of it, she’s got to get the kids to music, judo, or any of the other millions of things that kids are forced into doing now days. The kids, never wearing a seat beat, are flung from side to side as she makes her way to their next port of call. Kids don’t even notice that their little bodies are flying around the inside of a car, they are to busy on their cellphones, much like mom.
Boy Racer Boer –
Having seen one to many episodes of Pimp my ride and thought the “Fast and the Furious” movies were bliksem kiff, these boys seem to think that their 94 VW Jetta is capable of reaching speeds that require the use of a rear spoiler. Their custom paint jobs and air intake vents add that extra amount of awesome to their choice of transport. You always hear them before you see them, the hum of their exhaust and boom sound system. They pull up next to you, gold necklace and a popped collar, you know your in for some wheel spinning burn off as soon the traffic light changes. They are on the other side of the coin of drivers, they are totally unable to driving anything close to the speed limit. Always revving their engine, causing that stupid exhaust to crackle forth more terrible noise. Look lower to middle class white kids, why do you have to listen to rap music at top volume, I have a couple of theories on why you might do so.
- I’ve spoken to your types before, unable let anything of sense spill from your bucktoothed mouth you use the music to hide your insane ramblings, less someone hears you. However this again could not be the case, as you seem to move in packs. A colllective gang bang of high fiving, brandy drinking, 100% boer boys.
- Unable to get any attention at home or from anyone else, that is capable of not bringing the blue bulls into a conversation, they must make their presence known to all and sundry.
If you do happen to be out late one evening, beware as you are now in the domain of the drunken boy racer. Waiting at the traffic light a packed car will hum up to the light and all of the occupents will look over to you. There is sure to be patting on the back and some sort of conversation inside the car. Their engine rev’s, and they look at you again. You rev back, a frenzy breaks out in the car. The light changes, wheels spin and acrid tyre smoke streams from the spinning wheels. They fly off down the road and you turn the corner and return to eating your petrol station pie.