The driving force

Once again I join the drivers on the roads of New Orleans. If I didn't have to work 2 jobs in one day, then I would much rather have walked to work than throw myself at the mercy of drivers in this city. (And I used the word drivers loosely)

They are more like preteens behind the wheel of machine that they have yet to master. Hurling their vehicles down the street as if they are the only ones on the roadway.

Most people neglect to use turn signals, opting for halting to a stop in the middle of the road and giving all inquiring drivers around a "mental" signal that they will be parallel parking or picking up their best friend from Shoe Nami.

A large majority to make way for on the road are the SUV drivers. In case you weren't aware, when they are on the road, you don't exist. If you show any sign of competition for space or have the intent of being in their lane- whooo boy- watch it. They'll fling their massive, gas-guzzling, obtrusive, uptown-wife-toting, Whole Foods front row parking, yuppie motorcoach across your path so fast you'd swear your doors were ripped off by a jetliner. This is done only to remind you that you're only a peon in the world of car ownership.

This is only coupled by the fact that about 20% of the drivers out here are uninsured and if something should happen on the road, they'll take off faster than Paris Hilton her first night in jail. Leaving you with a sense of wonder to go with that fresh dent or ripped off side mirror. The kind of wonder as to how many licenses does Wal-Mart give out? And who in their right mind would join these people on the road?

Well, that would be me. Not by my choice mind you. Getting myself off the road is my first priority, saving to purchase another bicycle. And if the ghetto kids in my neighborhood would do me a big favor, steal my car next time and leave my bike alone.