Automobile Aristocracy


If you take a look out the window in class today, you’ll probably see a couple Audi’s, a BMW or maybe a Mercedes or two. These slick rides sit stationary until the students come out to really open them up on Gordon and park them in their parent’s garage later in the day. Everyone knows who drives them, and everyone knows it’s a complete waste of a fantastic car.

It’s hilarious to think that the dentist Mommy and lawyer Daddy are supplying their kid with a top of the line car, and escalating their kid’s social status and appearance. What is it about a visually beautiful, decently fast car that gets their peers so excited? It’s guaranteed that the students aren’t making payments on the Mercedes with their part time job flipping burgers.

You can’t help but feel bad for these gorgeous rides. The only time the vehicles get to flex their muscles is when they tear out of the driveway every morning at 8:30am.  They drift the suburb corners; floor it on the five hundred metre straight away or rev their engines at each and every stop light that shines red. Maybe that’s wrong. Perhaps they’ll throw their hockey gear in the back and roll the beamer into the local rink’s parking lot for Wednesday night practice.

Why is the expensive car, owned by your parents, such a source of pride for you? How good does it feel when you make it purr at a flat 60 km/h? You must feel like a hero standing around your car at lunch to flaunt it in everyone’s faces that, “Yeah, Mom and Dad are good to me.”

Thank goodness you have that gorgeous car. Who knows what your social life and reputation would be like without it. You’d probably be miserable. You’d realize your parents don’t love you enough to purchase a Benz for the commute to school. When you call your parents out on their lack of love, it will cause family turmoil. You’ll beg and cry and keep asking, day after day for that dream car you’ve wanted since you got your learners. Eventually, your parents will get sick of it. You’ll probably run away from home, stay at a friend’s place, get a part time job as a sandwich artist at Subway, and buy a crappy 2003 Civic off Kijiji. Your life pretty much sucks. Not only did you have a falling out with your entire family, you won’t have any friends if they see you in a Honda.

Keep driving your cars hard, people. Try not to scrape your bumper on the parking curb, and if you do, pray your Dad doesn’t see the damage. Make sure you honk your horn enough to alert the entire school you have arrived and keep thinking you’re top of the food chain. Your ego is through the roof, just like the price tag on your car, and it will probably stay like that for the rest of the year. Just remember, in a couple years, no one’s going to care.