I went home for this long weekend, as us Canadians are going to be celebrating Thanksgiving with a Monday off. Since I don’t have a car at university (no need whatsoever), it’s been a while since I sat behind the wheel of my parents’ car. Thus, it was no surprise that I put the petal to the metal and had a bit of fun, weaving in and out like I was being knitted and sewn. There was even a moment when I was on Bayview Ave. and there was a parked fire truck blocking the far right lane (there are three lanes on that stretch of the road), and some douche in a Grand Cherokee tried to pull the classic push-hard-until-the-very-end-of-the-lane-then-cut-off-some-weak-driver technique. Well I was definitely not the weak driver today, so I forced him to pull in behind me. Right after, I pulled out onto the far right lane thinking that it was open (because I needed to make a right onto Sheppard Ave.), when I realized that it was not open, due to there being a tanker parked there (something wrong with the Sunoco, strong fumes of gasoline drowned that intersection). What did I do? I definitely wasn’t going to stop and signal and let the Jeep driver smirk at me as he refused to let me pass, so I gunned it and tried to do the exact same thing to a Buick that the Jeep tried to do to me thirty seconds earlier. Except that I made it. Because I rock. (But I did do the hand gesture of “thank you” to the Buick driver, which I always do when I’m at fault.)

All was good until later this evening when I was on Hwy. 7 going to visit my dear grandmother. I approached a red light in which the left lane had about six cars lined up, and the right lane had…one car, an older Chevy Malibu. After a split-second decision, I pulled up behind the car in the right lane, knowing that I was taking a GIANT risk; just like there’s no free lunch in this world, there’s no free “passing opportunities”. There HAD to be something wrong in that situation. Expecting the worst (but crossing my fingers tightly hoping I’d disappoint), I said to my mom, “This car better not be so slow that the six cars on the left lane manage to pass me.” She replied, “Um, I believe the driver in front of us is a female driver…and Chinese, too.” Right then and there, I knew I had made the wrong move. The turned green, and for a second it seemed as if the Malibu was actually accelerating faster than the car beside. But nope, it was just my imagination; the damn woman picked up so slowly that all six cars passed us by the time we crossed the intersection, and I had no choice but to take my horn out for some exercise. It didn’t seem to help at all, because when we started going downhill, she friggin’ BRAKED. For absolutely NO reason, there weren’t even cars in front of her! Adding insult to injury, she was already going 60km/h in a 70km/h limit. So I blasted my horn again, pulled out to the left lane, and cut her off as I passed. Only then did I realize that she had her high beams on, and they were on the whole time. Not an ounce of lie.

Seriously, I wonder all the time where Chinese women buy their licenses, so I can stink bomb the bastards encouraging such foul degradation of my beautiful roads.

By the way, this may be the first angry jeremiad against Chinese female drivers, but it certainly won’t be the last, given that I’ve been unfortunate enough to encounter at least one every time I drive (because I am Chinese, and I do go to Chinese areas to do stuff).