pick-up artist

I got my car back from the body shop today. I had a vaguely paranoid fantasy that I would get rear-ended on my way home because that is the sick twisted irony that I call my life. Luckily I didn't, although I did have to pay ten bucks for my rental since it was apparently not considered an economy car. I've decided that another one of my world domination rules will be this: anybody who wants to own and drive an SUV must take an IQ test before purchasing it because from what I can tell from driving the twenty miles to the car place and back, intelligence is inversely proportional to the size of your automobile. It boggles my mind that the people who own the vehicles best suited for driving in inclement weather are the worst at it.