Not Easily Intimidated

So I have this little car, the Scion IQ. They didn’t sell a ton of them, so you may never have seen one. But know this: its small. At 10 feet long, it is roughly half the size of the average car. But I adore it. It’s not just about saving the planet, it’s just that this car is about me. Just me.

Over 50. Live alone. No kids. A widower. Just me. How much car do I need for just myself? Okay, so I also have a minivan that allows me to drive Uber and Lyft, plus shlep cargo if need be. But to drive the IQ is something special, because it really is just for me.

I like to say that Bob bought it for me, since his life insurance paid for it. And I’m pretty sure he would have adored this car. To his credit, my brother Greg sealed the deal, because I called him while test driving the car, perhaps so he could bring me back to my senses, and he said to me, “If you like it, and you have the money, then buy it.” Sage advice. So I did.

So in a sense, Bob bought it for me, and I think of him every time I drive or even look at it. My time with Bob is still giving me joy, even though he’s gone. I hope he knew how good he was to me. I’m pretty sure he knew.

I would just like to say, though, that driving a tiny car seems to bother some people. I’m referring to the kind of person who drives a family-truckster SUV or perhaps some shabby logo-laden work truck. And every now and then, somebody will make their irritation known to me by tailgating, or boxing me out, or even parking within inches of me in a parking lot. Message received. I’m tiny, you are large. Whoop dee doo.

So here’s my message to you. I am not intimidated. I’m old. I’m insured. If you shred me in your quest for road dominance, you’re going down. So what’s gonna be? Ya feeling lucky?

What exactly is it taking from you that some old queer is tooling around pretty close to the speed limit in a 10 foot long car his late partner bought for him via life insurance? It’s not as if I’m in your way. I drive right, so feel free to pass. If you come blaring up on me, and the passing lane is clear, I’m assuming you are making some statement. So go ahead. Make your point.

Here’s my point: we both live in this world. I like my choices, in general. You don’t get a vote. I’m not easily intimidated. Trying to impress me with how big you are just reinforces how small you really are to me.