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I look back on this as if just happened yesterday. It's actually
quite funny because it seems to comically illustrate a stereotype of how people will
judge you on the most superfical things.
You'll see what I mean as you read on.
I didn't have the car more than a year and I was driving back from my mechanics.
It was an ordinary spring day. The weather was warm, the windows were down and
the road was mostly empty. I was south bound on highway 404 and just enjoying
the fact that I just got a clean bill of health on the car that had cost me very little.
I was in the right most lane and minding my speed because I knew the York Regional
police would be on the lookout for spring speeders
In my rear view mirror I had spotted two vehicles coming up on my left hand side.
The first one was a little Japanese econo box and the other was a YJ. Both vehicles
passed me without incident initially, but as I continued to taxi down the highway,
I began to gain some ground on both cars. The YJ and the econo box were now in the
right hand lane, so I made my lane change and passed both vehicles. I lost sight
of them in my rearview mirror so I didnt think I'd see them again - or so I thought.
I thought I should cut my speed a bit since I knew the York Regionals would be hiding
just over the next overpass. Then I notice the YJ that I had just passed coming up on my
left (I had moved back into the right hand lane at this point). "That's odd",
I thought "I didn't expect to see you again". As the YJ passed me this time,
the beautiful blonde passenger started to wave to me. I think it was to me.
"Maybe it is someone I don't immediately recognize", I thought to myself.
Curiousity. I want to know who this was.
By this time the YJ was about four car lengths ahead. And in my mind, I started to
check over my files to find out who this was. I didn't know anyone who drove a YJ
or any girl that had that beautiful blonde hair for that matter. "Humm", I said "Let's
investigate further". So I speed up to the point to were I'm right beside the YJ.
And the blonde beauty begins waving at me again. More than a little confused at
this point because I didn't recognise the bombshell, I must have had the most
perplexed expression on my face. "Maybe", I thought "she is waving at the car
somewhere behind me". So naturaly, with this thought in my head, and having direct eye
contact with the friendly beauty, I did what any normal person would do. I check
my blind spot and rear view mirror for another vehicle. No one there. When I
turned my head back to meet her gaze. She laughed and sped off towards the
upcoming exit.
As she sped off the exit ramp she was still waving and gave me a honk on the horn too.
Puzzled and still having that 'Oh so lost' look on my face I wave back hesitantly.
What just happened? An unknown beautiful blonde bombshell just waved, smiled and honked
at me for no apparent reason. As I exited off the highway it hit me. "It's your car,
you dumbass".
I giggled to myself the rest of the way home.
You'd think that the last encounter would stick in my head for awhile.
Not so. About a year and a half later I was coming across highway 401
(401 is a major highway in Toronto). Traffic was a bit slower than
usual, so I was casually weaving (not agressively) through the traffic
as I had the opportunity to and exercising all driver courtesy.
It may be worth noting here that at the time, there had been a large
number of road rage cases occurring on Toronto highways. Hence, my
diligence in exercising driver courtesy. If some did not let me use
their lane to pass, I would simply use a lane of a driver who was
more accomodating. All was going well and good. Until. Yes, until,
the appearance of a little Mazda 323 in my rear view mirror riding
pretty close to my bumper.
It was somewhere between eight and nine o'clock on a fall Saturday night
and the little 323 was a sniff'n my exhaust. "Uh oh", I thought "I may
have unknowingly pissed the little bastard off". "And I bet he wants to
have more than just words and hand gestures to settle this", I mused
further. At this point, the worst case senario is running through my head.
I'm about to become a statistic because the little dunce behind me is
about to blame everbody else for the wrong decsions he's made. And now
all his wrath and frustration will be falling on yours truely.
"Okay", I thought "Don't panick and don't engage him/her". I figured
that if I could keep myself ahead of the 323 (which wasn't hard to do)
I could lose him/her in traffic. After a few lane changes I managed to get to
the head of the traffic pack. With lots of open road ahead, it was time.
Punch it! Just a bit anyway. As I sped away to the next little pocket
of cars, I nestled into a spot thinking the little 323 was coughing
out my dust. Wrong! A casual glance in my rear view mirror, and the little
bastard was back. "Persistent little bugger aren't you?", I thought.
I don't think I was scared, as much as I was annoyed. "Okay", I
said, "Let's try a bit of passive weaving". So began the dance.
I'd move into this lane. A few zigs. A few zags. But eventually,
there he/she was with all 1.6 litres pumping for all their worth.
Nuts! Now it's time for a bit of strategy (as Bugs would say).
I figured that this Bozo was so intent on getting beside me
to let out his/her frustration that I may be able to utilize
that to my advantage. So here is what I did.
I was approaching my turn off ramp which was coming up on
my right. I positioned my car so that I had access to my exit
lane, but also allowed enough room for the 323 to pull up
beside me. As my exit lane approached I knew I only had a
small window of opportunity to excute my plan. The 323 pulled up
beside me. We moved along and I glanced over to take a first and last
look at my persuer's face just as I made my move into the escape lane.
Room for one car only. The 323 could not follow and I could not go back.
As I moved into my escape lane, my persuer's face came into focus.
She was smiling, waving, and giggling. A pretty face indeed.
But as I moved on to the 404 exit, I now knew it was just a game.
She just wanted to see me. "Who was the guy in the nice car?" is
perhaps what she thought. But my paranoia had thought otherwise
and I was now weaving away from an opportunity. What might have
been? I'll never know.
Damb! She was pretty too!
About a year after I purchased my 944, a friend of mine suggested that I
join a "Porsche club". "I don't think so", I said. "Why?", she
asked. I then proceeded to explain to her that I wouldn't really fit in.
The name of the club was pretentious enough, I could just imagine what
the people would be like. "Your not being fair to them or yourself", she said,
"Besides", she continued " not everyone there will be a sob".
"Alright", I said, "I'll give them a fair shot". But if I didn't like it,
I was out of there faster than a 944 turbo.
My first time out went fairly well. I actually met some people who were
close to my age and some of the older ones were sociable too. The social aspect
aside for a moment, an additional drawing power was that the club held track events
with instructors to show you what your car could really do. That would be worth
putting up with a bit of pretention. But to be honest, I really did not find much
pretention. Until. (Yes. I said until.)
By now, I was a member of the club for about a year and six months.
It was a Tuesday night, and everyone was kibitsing about (my Porsche this,
my Porsche that, La Dee Dah), when someone brought out some photos of their
trip to Germany. He began passing them around and describing his trip to the
Porsche factory where he test drove a new 993. Afterwards, while the photos were
still being passed about, a friend of mine (of modest means like myself) had politely
asked to see them and was granted a viewing. While my friend was gazing at the photo of
new 993, he asked the owner of the photos the price of the new
vehicle. Up to this point, the owner of the photgraphs was very kind and even
friendly. Everyone in the room was enjoying the pictures and all eyes were on my
friend since he was now taking his turn. "If you drive a Porsche, you should never
have to ask the price", he exclaimed with an arrogance that made the room
temperature rise by 5 degrees. Silence.
My insides convulsed as I watched my friend's humiliation. I stood there dumbfounded
at the remark. Just a few moments eariler, both parties were very civil and cordial
treating each other with dignity. And now out of the blue, he cuts into him like a
Roman executioner. I too may not be able to afford a new 993, but I do have the social graces to treat people with integrity and respect. I also know of people who could buy
the little sadistic crap weasle who made that comment with the spare change in their
pocket. And they know better than to belittle someone for their economic station.
Now I do want to make something clear here. I do not believe that this person's comment
to my friend reflected the attitude of the club board or membership necessarily.
I had some good times and meet some genuine and sincere people there when I was a member.
And in spite of one insecure crap weasle's comment, I would have no problem recommending
the club as a whole. However, I won't name the club specifically for obvious reasons.
I guess one could argue that considering the venue, you'd have to expect a comment
like that. Perhaps. But I find it disturbing because beneath a comment like that lurks
something more malevolent - cruelty towards another human being justified by monetary
means, station and/or power. The vulgar display that night was evidence of that.
Owning and driving my 944 was for me was a simple pleasure. That was it.
Unfortunately, for others, quantifying their self worth is directly proportional to
the accumulation of monetary wealth. Moreover, sadistically asserting themselves
before those who are in a lower economic station gives them a perverse sense of
delight and elation. We've all encountered them. And they do not necessarily
drive Porsches. It is too bad that moral character is not the principle determining
factor in acquiring monetary means in all instances. To sum things up, let me say:
It is a shame that some crap weasles drive Porsches.
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