Vancouver drivers are really random. Something like forty thousand people turn up here every year and they’ve never driven in these conditions, you know, the special hell that is Vancouver conditions, which can change, with Vancouver bicyclists, who are all masochists, and Vancouver pedestrians, who are all on their cell phones and wearing clothing that indicates the citizenry is participating in some particularly aggressive act of mass mourning, or possibly a wish to be killed by a car and thus miss the rest of the Vancouver winter, or perhaps these newcomers to Vancouver don’t drive at all, or have never driven in any country where human life has more meaning than the ten bucks they need to give you a decent funeral including a reading from a dude in a dress. So in addition to the fucking assholes who know what they are doing and are only too happy to demonstrate it in their noisy, whining chariots of penis worship, we have a broad assortment of clueless wimps with baloney skins for tires.
Vancouver drivers are the kind of people who will weld their brakes stopping for a squirrel and then clip a granny at a crosswalk at seventy k without blinking.
Vancouver drivers have such pretty cars! Such expensive cars! none of which seem to have functioning turn signals.
Vancouver drivers treat the distracted driving laws passed in 2010 as “goidloins”. Everybody knows you should not text and drive, and virtually everybody I know with the exception of my son, my brother, my ex and me does it (we had a family member killed by distracted driving so we’re REAL crabby on the subject.)
I’ve asked cabbies to pull over to finish their conversation and had them argue with me! I’ve had cabbies try to find out where they are going on a cell phone GPS while driving dangerously and arguing with me about whether they should pull over or not. The guy was so fierce he threw me out of the cab, and the licensing commission never returned my call, so they go on the list of Vancouver drivers I fucking hate. I didn’t have to pay for the ride though, so I guess I won that round. And I’ve lost track of how many cabbies drive away before my belt is on and ignore me when I tell them to pull over when I’m done. Is it misogyny or stupidity? Why not both?
I hate people who don’t know what fucking lane they are supposed to be in. ON A BRIDGE. How can you not know what fucking lane you’re supposed to be in when you’re crossing one of the lower mainland’s fine death traps, like the Patullo Bridge, which has such narrow lanes that I’m constantly getting other people’s side mirrors stuck in my teeth, and where some fucker in a truck from Alberta did actually try to kill me last year. Jeff toooo.
I hate the fucking fuckers who fucking completely fucked the fucking intersection at Willingdon and Deer Lake Parkway. Those ratfondlers should be dipped in boiling recycled cooking oil and have their interfered-with corpses left for the crows.
I hate with the force of a gamma ray burst all those festering hemorrhoidal pustules on Satan’s ass who designed the signage for the roads coming back from the Tsawwassen Ferry.