You've heard me go on about the terrors on the roads. Whether it's a BMW Viagra van filling the tiny little city streets, leaving no manoeuvring room for anyone (and taking all the parking spots, I might add, so that even my little Echo can't find a place to rest), or a deer/bear/moose/turtle getting between you and the cottage, or those jackass middle lane syndrome drivers who clutter up all roads north.

Well.

The past few months I've been more of a city commuter than ever before. Driving down to Hogtown for work has put me on those roads I was always able to avoid before...roads like the QEW, the Gardiner Expressway and such...congested parking lots, really, that makes me wonder why there aren't more murders and suicides in this big ol' town. These roads present the worst kind of road terror...the White Van.

Huh?

You see, no one owns a white van. It's a company vehicle usually driven by some $10/hour clown who was up until 2 in the morning drinking beers with his buddies and peeing on the neighbour's bushes. This guy doesn't care if he puts a dent in the boss's white van. the boss doesn't really care that much either. He'd rather pay the insurance than pay a good, respectable driver what he's worth.

So these guys zip in and out of lanes, cutting me off, riding right up my bum forcing me to change lanes or speed up. I can see 'em laughing at me as I pull over so they can get one more car length ahead. There's no point flipping the bird or honking or rolling down the window and yelling at them, because to them, they are in a smash up derby and it ain't their vans so they don't care.

The White Van, the ultimate road terror. Make no mistake. Well, except for the very conscientious White Van drivers...I apologize for the generalizations above. But, you know.

Thanks and good luck.

Please don't sue me.