When you’ve been driving for as long as I have, you start to notice patterns in people and the cars they drive. I’ve compiled this list to help you understand people a little better based on their cars.

Lexus: No it’s not a Mercedes, but it’s still better than your POS.

Ford: I can’t afford a European import so I justify this car as “supporting America.”

Land Rover: In my mind I’m driving across African plains teeming with wildlife, not sitting in rush hour traffic listening to sports talk radio.

Toyota: I live in the suburbs. Duh.

BMW: “I’m 30 minutes away. I’ll be there in 5. Don’t tee off without me.”

Dodge: That’s not a dent on my hood, that’s a trophy from a buck I bagged last October.

Mercedes (white): “Darling, should we order the Beluga caviar, or the Sterlet? We have to let Bryce know today for the gala at the house on Saturday.”

Jeep: I may be balding and 50 pounds over my playing weight in High School, but if you cross me I’ll jump out of this Jeep and crack open a can of woop ass.

Corvette: Compensating.

Acura: See Lexus.

Volkswagen: “Hey, you guys, look. I know I’m just the dude that carries the bags, but it seems to me we all play an important part in this group. I mean, we’re just like a big, delicious banana split. Fred, you’re the big banana; Daphne, you’re the pastrami and bubble gum-flavoured ice cream; and Velma, you’re the sweet-and-sour mustard sauce that goes on top.”

Buick: Ever since my Johnny showed me how to use the DVR, I never miss an episode of Judge Judy.

Jaguar: Had an “eject” button installed for the passenger seat.

Honda: Yes, I really wish I had a Volvo, but you can’t argue with a car that’s safe, dependable, and holds its retail value. It’s perfect. I’m perfect. And I have a perfect family.

Mercedes (black): My wife plays tennis every morning and might be having an affair with our pool man, but at least I’m driving this.

Kia: Has pet hamsters, and no children.

Chevrolet: Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, and NASCAR.

Prius: “You clearly don’t give a damn about the planet. You disgust me.”

Any style pickup truck: Republican.

Volvo: I care more about my family than you do about yours.

Any style minivan: I really have no idea how parents managed before automatic sliding doors. I mean, really.

Audi: I’m not saying that I’m smarter than you, but…yes I am.

Tesla: Everyone’s looking at us. Look! See? That guy just looked.

Hyundai: It’s the new Toyota. #SuburbsFTW

Cadillac: Some days I just drive around town pretending it was the 1970s.

Porsche: See Corvette.

Nissan: [WOMAN, 35, WITH A TODDLER ON HER HIP AND TWO TWIN BOYS IN TOW WALKING THROUGH STRIP MALL PARKING LOT TALKING ON A PHONE PRESSED AGAINST HER EAR BY HER SHOULDER AS SHE FUMBLES THROUGH HER PURSE FOR KEYS]: “I hear you Margie, but you know he’s not really like that. Deep down I think he still loves you … hold on one sec, Marge– TIMOTHY QUIT PEEING ON YOUR BROTHER’S LEG!”

Hummer: I told you that gas prices would go back down, bitches.

Subaru: [SUCKING NOISE] Dude, don’t be such a bogart. Dude–look out for that deer!

Oldsmobile: So help me if you take a handicapped spot and your placard isn’t clearly visible I’ll call the police and wait right here outside of this WalMart until they arrive.

2012_Mercedes_E-350_888_v1

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Jim Mitchem

A Poem in the Parking Lot at My Daughter's Soccer Practice
It's The End of the World as We Know It. And We Feel Fine.

Jim Mitchem

Writer. Father to daughters. Husband. Ad man. Raised by wolves. @jmitchem on twitter. First novel, Minor King, out now.

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