A typical Canadian winter day. Cold as hell, and endless snowfall. Another great chance to practise my drifting. In the afternoon, I went over to my mechanic’s for minor repairs.

Some background info first: Sunday morning, came out of a restaurant after a hearty brunch to notice a slip of paper on my windshield. It read, “Witness to [my car], [name and info of witness], a white Sierra pickup with license plate 513 8VV took out your mirror and left.” I looked down and realized that my right side mirror was dangling by the two wires. Boy, was I pissed. Two hits to my family car in two months now, both the other driver’s fault; I don’t want to know what’s in store for March. So this time, not only was damage more severe than the last time, but the bitch — some girl driving with a guy in the passenger seat — booked it after hitting me. So my family had to head over to the cop station to report a hit-and-run, where we were informed that a) the jackass resides in Pickering and b) because the parking lot is private property, no charges can be laid. As of now, we can’t really do anything until the cops find out more about the incident and who was involved.

So anyway, I’m driving along Steeles Ave. amidst moderate traffic. Of the three lanes, I switch back and forth to pass slow cars (roads were wet, but it was only the start of the snowfall and it wasn’t icy yet, trust me). There was an instance when I was on the left lane and I gravitated over to the middle without signaling. Doing so, I accidentally cut off a white Chevy Aveo for the third time…he’d been following me for a while, and each time he signaled change lanes and pass I did the same, but it was pure coincidence (I wanted to pass, too!) — if you’re that driver, my sincere apologies. I felt bad so I accelerated hard and incidentally tailed a Saturn, who was quick to move out of my way to the third lane. Needless to say, I gunned it ahead of everyone. Approaching a slow Caravan in my middle lane, I pulled to the right to pass, but I quickly realized that this new lane was full of stopped right-turners; instinctively, I swerved to the far left to the best possible lane. [See diagram below.]

Unfortunately, all my efforts proved to be in vain, as all the cars I zoomed by moments earlier rejoined me at the red traffic light. While I was patiently waiting for the green and listening to Paul Oakenfold (Ready, Steady, Go anyone? The perfect song to put the pedal to the metal), I heard a honk and I looked to my right: the Saturn driver had his window down, and he was saying something in an obviously disproving tone while waving his arms around in imitation of the motion of my vehicle. For the first time in my life, I had a driver tell me off before I could get away with it. Shocked by what I was seeing before my eyes, I could only give an exaggerated shrug indicating, “Sorry?” There was nothing I could do or say to mend my faults, and I didn’t even know what to do. Then I pulled a real asshole move: I started grinning. I’ll bet on my life that the Saturn driver thought, “Damn stupid kids, recklessly-driving and remorseless little shits!”, but I just couldn’t help to laugh at how angry he was and how defenseless I was. No question about it, he was absolutely right in berating me, but we both knew that he couldn’t do anything about it. Besides, it’s not like I tailed him deliberately, I even thought he was awfully nice for getting out of the way so quickly.

But the story doesn’t end there. I’ll admit that following the reprimand, I slowed down considerably and kept a good distance from the car in front of me (the slippery road condition might have contributed, too). Until I neared Woodbine and Steeles, arguably the busiest intersection in Canada (if I remember correctly, a report said that 250 cars per minute on average cross it during the day). Slowing down at a red light, a cream Porsche Cayenne cut me off; on a sunny day it’d be fine, but since it was snowing, I could’ve hit the SUV if I wasn’t braking considerably already (note this). You see, I go by the Hammurabi Code of an eye-for-an-eye on the road. Thus, since this Porsche offended me, I pulled up very close to it when stopping, a sign of aggression. It kept inching forward, and I maintained my close proximity. In case it wasn’t clear enough to me, the driver rolled down the window and stuck her hand out to motion for me to stop advancing with her. I just glared back defiantly at her face in her side mirror. Tough luck, bitch; you’re the one who nearly hit my car, yet you’re worried about me dinging you? How ironic. Once the light turned green, the old woman (no lie, an old woman driving a Cayenne) took forever to start rolling, so I pulled out to the middle lane (we were on the left lane still) with the intention of passing her. However, there was a slow car up ahead, and I wasn’t going to cut her off in such bad weather, precisely the reason why she got on my nerves in the first place. So I switched to the right lane and passed both of them, watching them fade away in my rear view mirror.

Seriously, old women should not be allowed to drive Cayennes, or Porsches in general. If you’re too much of a wimp to handle your car properly in a bit of snow, maybe you should switch to a slow American brick; I’m sure the trade-in value of the Cayenne would yield at least two bricks! Oh and to drivers in general, don’t be an ass on the road unless you’re prepared to receive the same treatment. I was one and got my due (though one could point out that I didn’t really because I couldn’t even hear what the Saturn driver was saying, but I did accept it humbly); don’t complain when you get a taste of your own medicine.