Came out of the supermarket today to find my rustbucket car sandwiched between two monstrous 4x4s. Into one, the Ford truck, a child bounded while his mother got the shopping. In the other, a husband lounged behind the wheel while his wife collected groceries.
The scene had a symmetry to it, as well as a ridiculous visual humour. Thank goodness for camera phones.
I am wary to start a rant because this sort of thing really gets my gander up. It gets my goat, you know? It gets on my wick. I mean, the pimp-wagons, painted in intimidating black with the tinted windows (because one woudn’t want to be seen stopping at Sainsbury’s, would one) hardly fitted in the parking spaces. I doubt the passengers could even see me, down at street level, laughing at the ridicoulousness of the whole thing.
These types of cars are not, as the manufacturers intend, symbols of freedom, comfort and success, but actually symbols of selfishness and greed.
Before you say: “but they might have an estate, I mean, work on a forest estate, or a farm…”, I say, leave it in the country. You don’t drive it to the supermarket to get the messages. And before you say: “it’s a free market economy, I mean a free world”, I say that’s fine. You can choose to drive one of these things if you want. Just so long as you know what people think of you. Then again, you probably don’t care.