Those oh-so generic Toyota Camrys

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The Toyota Camry. You see them every day. They’ve been around for years, changing little more than the hood on the front and the trunk and taillights on the back. But despite their never-changing look, people continue to buy them. These people are all alike. They drive the same. They are the bane of my morning commute. Here’s what we know about the Toyota Camry:

  • It’s #3 on “Gaywheels.com” list of automobiles owned by our “alternative lifestyle” society.
  • Camry’s continue to make the Top 10 Most Stolen Vehicle List
  • The Camry was the first non-domestic car to compete in NASCAR in recent years
  • It is THE most popular car in America

Now, here’s what I suspect about the Toyota Camry based on my own informal research study:

  • The most popular color is Gold
  • Only women drive them, unless a man’s truck is in the shop and he’s forced to go somewhere with his lady friend
  • Drivers of Camrys really like their bumper stickers, vanity plates, and license plate frames
  • They all drive a two-lane stretch of road near me between the minutes of 6:48-6:54 a.m.
  • They all drive at least 5 mph less than the speed limit

There is a 4 mile stretch of 2-lane road that I travel on each morning going to work. The speed limit is 35MPH the entire way, and the middle of it includes a very steep valley, which, if you don’t build up enough speed, requires you to hit your passing gear to climb out of if you’re not going fast enough already. Each morning, despite varying my departure time by a few minutes in either direction, I inevitably get behind a Gold Toyota Camry. I have identified at least three different ones. My method of differentiation determination is as follows:

  • They appear at various stretches of the road. Two at the very begnning, on about 1/3 of the way through
  • They all have a different tag number (satisified?)

The interesting thing is, that despite their differences, they share some staggering driving similarities, mainly that of driving VERY slowly, and completely ignoring the rather large-grilled pickup truck on their tail urging them onward. And it’s not like they see me there and I upset them to the point that they obstinately refuse to speed up…they just don’t care. When I do inevitably pass them at the traffic light, they are middle-aged working women staring blankly off into space pondering Lord-knows-what–that hair appt. they need to make; what to put in the Crock Pot tomorrow before leaving for work–I don’t know!

I’ve tried to avoid them, but I think they have hacked into the Sirius satellite orbiting the planet and have triangulated my location through my sattelite radio receiver and act accordingly in order to foil my attempts at a frustration-free drive in the morning.

Or…I could be just completely unlucky (and paranoid). YOU make the call!

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