Sex Drive?

So, there I was yesterday, driving back from the coast when, on an uphill stretch of dual carriageway, when I had an encounter with a BMW driver. To cut a short story even shorter, I succeeded in outpacing the BMW on the uphill section. I wasn't intending to, and I wasn't racing him, but for whatever reason, despite being in the overtaking lane, the BMW guy's car just seemed to run out breath and, instead of coming past me, fell further behind. But the point of the story isn't the fact that my nine year old Mondeo out ran a Beamer. No, it was the expression on the BMW driver's face as I glanced in my rear view mirror which was the real story. "My God, you've made my cock look small," it said. "I've been emasculated - there's only one way to restore my manhood! I must overtake him!" Which he did, but only on the downhill section, and even then with a lot of effort, considering that I didn't vary my speed at all. As he finally passed me, it was clear that he'd succeeded in his aim - he obviously had an erection and was now ejaculating into his foot well. His manhood restored, he drove on happy.

Not that I'm saying that cars are penis substitutes, but it is quite obvious that for many men they represent an extension of their masculinity. Just look at those tossers who can't bear to have any vehicle infront of them and osessively overtake, regardless of how reckless it might be - they're obviously trying to establish themselves as some kind of alpha male. Unfortunately, they just come off as some kind of cock end to everybody else. Then there are van drivers - always desperate to demonstrate the fact they are 'professional' drivers who have no time for us 'amateurs' who clutter up the roads and obstruct them. When I was driving through the New Forest the other day, one became very impatient at the fact that we car drivers were taking our time to get past a cyclist. I'm afraid that I'm one of those pedants who take the law seriously and tries to give cyclists the full car's width you are meant to when overtaking them. Anyway, the knuckle dragging moron in the van a couple of cars back got so angry that he attempted to overtake the car behind me as that car was itself overtaking the cyclist I'd finally got past. Not that it did him any good - once he was behind me, the oncoming traffic got heavier, stopping him from overtaking again. Moreover, we then entered a built up area and I took great delight in reducing my speed to just below the new speed limits. Finally, in flash of petulance he switched into a lane for buses and taxis and proceeded to drive past the now queued traffic at sixty miles an hour in a thirty zone. Doubtless that re-established his 'professionalim' to his satisfaction.

Now, don't let my treatment of that cyclist in the previous anecdote fool you - I don't like them either. Really, they're the scourge of the road system, huffing and puffing their way along main roads at two miles an hour, causing horrendous tail backs. Have you noticed how you only ever find yourself behind them on blind bends or approaching the brow of a hill, or where there's heavy oncoming traffic preventing you from getting past them? Worst of all is their air of smug superiority - look at me, I'm environmentally friendy, I'm not destroying the planet with my noxious emissions, they always seem to be saying. In their world, anybody driving a car is Satan and is clearly trying to intimidate them. What I especially object to is they way some of them dress - it isn't just those 'knob head' helmets they favour, but those bloody tight lycra bodysuits. Quite frankly, I really don't want some sanctimonius vegan bike rider waggling his barely lycra-clad arse in my my face when I'm trapped behind him. It's quite deliberate on their part - ever noticed how they always raise their buttocks off of the seat and jiggle their cheeks at you as you approach them from behind? How would they like it if I exposed myself to them as I overtook them, eh?

Nevertheless, despite my dislike of them, I don't feel that I have to maim and kill cyclists in order to prove that I'm not gay. Unlike many other drivers, mainly of BMWs. Not that I'm claiming to be immune from the macho aspects of motoring, Many years ago - on the day of Princess Diana's funeral, to be precise, which meant there were no police or other traffic about - I did the ton on that same stretch of dual carriageway I emasculated the BMW on, albeit in the opposite direction. I was driving a 1978 Chevrolet Camaro with a 5.7 litre V-8 at the time - a phallic looking car if ever there was and a red neck macho icon in the US. I won't deny that it made me feel good. Of course, my rationale for doing it was that it was a tribute to the late Princess - after all, she'd died in a speeding car and I'd just driven past Broadlands where she'd spent part of her honeymoon.