I have a special dislike for the monster SUVs that dominate the roads and frighten little VW Beetle drivers like me, so the accompanying comic had me laughing out loud. Jerry and I share the same incredulous opinion of the SUV culture, although we both have a devoted Suburban-driving mom.
As a child, I really dug the idea of not having to share a seat with my younger brothers — we each got our own _row_ of seats in Mom’s shiny house on wheels, a.k.a. a GMC Suburban. Now that my mind extends past having some personal space from slapping hands and a sibling who just wants to steal your travel snacks, I turn my attention to the environment, to the unnecesary crates of gasoline being gulped down, and to the threats these honker vehicles impose on others — mostly negative impacts, I think.
For some reason, the appeal of SUVs is lost on me. I think it is a status symbol, and I would rather drive a station wagon if it came to the point when I really needed that much space. I also think it fair to point out that I once drove a modest SUV — during the first of my driving years, thanks to a compromise with my father, not by choice. Sure, it’s nice to be able to see right over the compact car in front of you, but is that really fair? Besides, with the constant spikes in gas prices, I’d rather go back to bicycling than to fill the tank of even that small SUV on a regular basis. As negative as I may sound, there _is_ one silly thing I am even more passionately opposed to: mini-vans, which are the epitome of yuck! I’ll save that one for another rainy, tropical stormy day…
They’re the worst when you’re behind them on a motorcycle, especially going up or down a mountain. Sheesh. None for me, thanks.