Well, aren’t you special?

Well, aren’t you special?

This post is directed specifically to the driver of the 1973 Plymouth Duster that I saw several times this past weekend. (Everyone else is welcome to read it, though, this being a semi-public blog.)

Dear Sir,

I can only imagine how proud you must be of your vehicle.  It’s certainly well maintained, and your impeccable care is evidenced by your choice of “Classic Car” license plate and blinding wax job.  You’ve likely invested much time and money into it.  It’s cool, I get it.

I’d like to comment on your choice to park your vehicle across 3 parking spaces in already crowded parking lots during the last shopping weekend before Christmas.  I’m a pretty calm lady, not prone to tantrums or ugliness at all; yet that parking job that loudly pronounced to all who passed it that YOUR VEHICLE is somehow more valuable than any other in the area made my mild mannered self want to key the whole side of that shiny paint.  Seriously.

What about the single parent who spent 2 years saving money to buy that 2001 Jeep that I saw in the parking lot?  Do you think your car is more important than that one?  More worthy of a parking spot that will protect it against dings and scratches?

Your car is no more special than anyone else’s.  If you want to keep it in its pristine condition, keep it in your garage.  If you want to take it from store to store to store during the 3rd week of December, then park between the lines like everyone else, and (like everyone else) hope no one dings your door, shoves a shopping cart into it, or breaks in to steal the $5.27 worth of change in the console.

You, Sir, are a pompous ass.

p.s., if your car got keyed, it wasn’t me.  While I really did have the urge, I also practice great impulse control.  Besides, I was too busy looking for a parking spot.



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