I know why I drive a small car

Because if I had a big truck, I'd be ramming people off the road.  Like the slack-jawed crackhead who tailgated me for miles as I was following behind a work truck who was doing the speedlimit.  It wasn't just the tailgating, it was the passing me (on a double-yellow line) only to do a hard braking, swerving maneuver once you realized that I had a GINORMOUS FUCKING BUCKET TRUCK IN FRONT OF ME, which you were too oblivious to notice prior to attempting to illegally pass me, on a double yellow line, while flying past an intersection.

That mouth-breathing fucking retard put my life in danger, plus the lives of everyone else around him, and for what?  To get to where he was going five seconds sooner? 

If I had a truck, I would have run him off the road.  As it is, my car damn near had a stripe going down the side of it.  And yeah, I followed him a for a good long while, with my middle finger getting quite a bit of air-time.  I wanted that drooling fuckwit to pull over, but he wouldn't.  He just stomped on the gas.  Like his crappy, pathetic piece of shit hoopdy can outrun me.  Uh, no, there's something called maintenance that needs to happen with a car in order for it to function properly.  I finally decided that I didn't want to be late for dinner.  My appetite was more important to me than dragging this fucking moron out of his car and beating him with a tire iron, but it was a close thing.

Gah.  Poverty is a culture, people.  So is acting that fucking selfishly.