FOR REAL: I am a better driver than every person

"FOR REAL" is a weekly place for Anne T. Donahue to gracefully rage out about politics, pop culture and the general insanity of being alive in 2017.

I am a better driver than every person, but especially you.

I know how to use the signals on my car, and I know to slow down on the highway without braking so fast that those behind me remember that the threat of death is constant and always.

• PREVIOUSLY: I will never go to your cottage, ever
• PREVIOUSLY: Every Canadian stereotype is terrible. Sorry, but I'm right and you know I'm right

My car doesn't have any bumper stickers, nor is the back window inexplicably filled with dolls or Beanie Babies. I will distract you with Beyoncé playing on the loudest possible volume setting, but only so as to spread the gospel.

I do not make unnecessary eye contact with drivers to my left, to my right, or in the rear-view mirror. Unless I am explicitly trying to start a fight, which is always your fault, and never mine.

It isn't my problem if my leaning on the horn startles or upsets you, nor is it my problem if you are stuck paying the sonic price for a driver who should've known better. I am in charge of the road if I am on it, and I am brave enough to make it known that it is I you must respect. Unlike everybody else in traffic, I am willing to step up and lead.

The rule is simple and we know it: traffic jams are caused only by the one car or truck you cannot see past.

I do not make amateur moves conducive to ruining the days and lives of anybody else driving a vehicle. I do not suddenly realize I need to turn left while in the farthest possible right lane, three metres from the intersection, before cutting off a small army of cars and forcing them to reconcile with their inevitable demise. Nor do I follow said idiocy with an absent-minded wave. Such a wave is an insult, yet is a gesture attributed to friendliness and being nice.

I refuse to be mistaken for a friendly or nice person because I am neither one of those things.

I do not allow for unexplained gaps between cars while on the highway, nor do I unnecessarily blame anyone but the driver directly in front of me for the traffic to begin with. The rule is simple and we know it: traffic jams are caused only by the one car or truck you cannot see past. And therefore, like any rational adult, I direct all anger and resentment toward that driver – and internally, so that my heart begins to race and I start to quietly panic without alerting anyone around me. I then count down to the moment in which a driver lacking spatial awareness tries to edge his way into my lane without signalling, at which point I unleash hours of pent-up rage, yell "NO!" and point aggressively. This does not count as a threat because I said so.

I make sure my window is down just enough so that anybody listening is frightened to their very core.

I also do not forget how to use drive-thrus, parking lots, or how to parallel park. Nor do I treat the 401 like my own private tourist route. The highway's for regular driving and not for fancy-driving, so to get this point across, I make sure dramatically pass anyone doing something I hate while slowing down long enough to make hard eye contact while shouting, "REALLY?" Inevitably, they are not paying attention, but spiritually: they know.

I use mob boss-like calmness if my car is dinged, hit, or backed into, refusing to apologize regardless of fault in case I am being taped and the other party plans to use my confession in a court of law. I then realize I should not watch The Godfather before going anywhere, let alone the mall.

I create a sense of camaraderie with my fellow drivers, making knowing eye contact at red lights and bonding with them over any idiot we've had the treat of crossing paths with. Sometimes, I let them ahead of me in a lane, acknowledging to myself how generous I am, how strong, how selfless. And then, after inevitably screaming about them after they slam on their breaks for the eighth inexplicable reason in the last four minutes, I take a breath, turn up Rihanna and continue forward.

Because the truth is, I am not a good driver. I am not even a great driver. I am a perfect driver. And most important, a better driver than any of you.

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