This brings us to the next question: how do you know if a person has, by our
definition, a "legitimate" use for an SUV? You don't. As far as we know,
everyone could be off road drivers.
Me, I developed my disdain from having met and ridden with SUV drivers. They
should not be allowed to drive.
First example is my good friend and her new groom, when they traded in his
really nice GTI for an Explorer. She wouldn't drive the GTI, that's why. And
plus, the Explorer was for the "kids." That they didn't have at that time, but
they were planning ahead. And we, and this other couple, were all sitting
around at this alumni swim meet, talking about SUVs, pros and cons. You can
imagine what side I was on. This was years ago, right at the beginning of the
SUV trend, when I thought maybe my words could make a difference. I talked
about statistics and stories I had read, about SUV drivers running people off
the road and never knowing it due to the quiet and solitude of their enlarged
metallic wombs. Which they regarded as a safety feature. "That's it, safety.
That's priority one for me," said Daniel. I knew then that I could not win.
That was the beginning of my disdain, only the mild beginning, when I got to
see how these people really tick. Since then, I, too, have been run off the
road, and I can still hear the cackling.
Then, about a year ago, I met up with some high school friends that I had not
seen since I was fourteen. Marla and Sonya (fake names), ever the grown ups
now, pulled up to my house in Marla's SUV monster, its name I cannot recall, so
I'll call it the GMC Subdivision.
By now, I had created in my head a clear division between "us" and "them." I
knew that by getting into that vehicle, that I was crossing over to the other
side.
I sat in the backseat, an unwilling guest, yet I tried to be open minded. She
was, after all, a childhood friend, and how shallow I would be to hold this
against her after all of these years.
We lumbered down the road towards the restaurant, and I noticed that curbs and
things really did not matter to her. All that mattered were the people in her
way, which was everyone. I knew, with just a flick of an ankle, she could run
them all over. She knew it too, and so did Sonya, and that's why they screamed
and cursed at all the drivers, warning them of the emanate danger, of what
could happen if they wronged her, if they blocked her path. Our path. I was
guilty by association. I wanted to disintegrate.
There is something I discovered about Marla, although I had not seen her in
fifteen years. She was the same person. Good on the inside, and kind, but
sensitive enough to want to rip off the head of anyone who looked at her funny.
Stacy was the toughest girl in school. She'd fight boys and win. She gave
herself tattoos, and would light her hair on fire for fun. She did not care
what anyone else thought when it came to mutuality and understanding.
That is why she drives an GMC Subdivision. This tank is an extension of her
true self. People hide behind these walls of steel, thinking they are
impenetrable to the world, that they are superior. They probably run over
bunnies and laugh.
I know she'd run me over if she read this. That's why I changed her name.
Katie K.
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