People often complain about the drivers in Vancouver. Most of the time I ignore the complaints because a) what can I do about it, b) I’ve seen some stupid shit but just chalk it up to everyone who is not me sucking, and c) okay already, we get it. Today, however – well, if everyone regularly sees the shit I encountered on my lunch hour today, I take back and apologize for my eye-rolling because HOLY CRAP WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH YOU PEOPLE OUT THERE ON THE ROADS???
It is completely unnecessary for you to drive less than 20km/h down Robson when there is no traffic in front of you. I don’t care how lost you are; pull the fuck over if you need to find an address. You say you aren’t lost but are just checking out the scene and trying to be seen? a) you look like a fucking tool; b) you’re driving an un-pimped Mazda 3 that no one will look twice at, c) HURRY THE FUCK UP ALREADY AND GET OUT OF MY WAY.
Why do you hate scooters? Do you really think people will think you are super awesome if you swerve around me in disgust, almost clipping me with your awesome Porsche or your awesome Pontiac Sunbird? I’m almost glad you have no idea how much I laugh at you when I catch up and/or pass you further up the block, because I’m sure knowing that would cause your already small genitals to shrink up even further.
You, lady. In the green car. Stop checking your makeup and reading whatever it is you have on the seat beside you, and oh I don’t know, drive your fucking car. I shouldn’t have to honk at you TWICE to get you moving, just as you shouldn’t stop at a green light to check your makeup or read whatever it is you have on the seat beside you.
This one is my favourite: hey, blondie in the red Golf – I am surprised but delighted that you have been able to make it so far in this world with your four arms, given that physical defects of that nature are usually dealt with at birth. While it may be difficult for you to buy shirts that fit or avoid the stares and screams as you walk down the street, I am very happy for you’ve managed to find a niche for yourself behind, of all places, the wheel of your car. Those four arms are great – it enables you to talk on your cell phone, smoke a cigarette, shift gears, and still hold the steering wheel for safety and common sense purposes. I tip my helmet off to you, blondie with the four arms in the red Golf – your “can do!” attitude and multitasking skills you display while driving surely put my own two arms to shame.
delicious juice dot com 
Some moron decides to pass me, ON THE RIGHT on a one-lane stretch of road, *when I was just about to turn right*… this arse in a pick-up just about knocks me off my scoot.
Then there’s the fools who perceive me to be going slow or something, necessitating the pass. It’s freakin’ hilarious when I pull up beside or behind them at the next light. Apparently endangering my life was worth it to get that extra 15 feet ahead.
After 3 weeks of scooting to work (not even every day!) I’ve decided I need a few things in way of gear:
-A video camera, easily clicked on to capture morons who almost kill me, so I can prove it to the cops that YES that dude WAS insane!
-A ‘can of air’ (aka air horn) so make those bastards think twice about cutting me off (lil scooty horn sounds like roadrunner, but wimpier)
-A bag of lead balls, something like a shotput, say, for me to lob through their windows
That should do it.
Oh, and a gas mask to keep their noxious fumes outta my poor face while I’m sitting behind their petrofuel-wastin’ asses!
Bad advice to follow:
spark plugs work well when needing an object to hurl at a cars window. They are easy to grip, throw, and the ceramic coating makes for some nice dings. Don’t ask how I know.
See, bad advice!