For almost five years, I’ve relied on my feet and public transit to get me from place to place.  This was for several reasons, including a vehicle’s return on investment and my environmental responsibilities.  I could never justify owning a vehicle in Vancouver as everything I need is either within walking distance (within 12 km) or easily accessible via public transit.

However, it’s time to change this.

In just over a year, Reiko and I will be married and living in Canada.  With two people using a vehicle, the cost of ownership is now a little more in line with what I prefer to see.  Also, in the event that we have children in the first few years of marriage, it would be nice to have a vehicle to get from place to place.  I would never want my Reiko to go through the hassles of bringing a stroller and a child onto a transit vehicle … it’s just way too much trouble.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve noticed far more … how should I put this … “stupid white guys” on transit.  I’m sure we all know the type.  These are the people that have more braun than brain.  They curse more in 30 seconds than Eminem does in an entire album.  They make women uncomfortable with their idiotic come-ons.  And they lower the average intelligence level of the entire bus or train by a solid 50 IQ points.

I can’t stand these fools anymore.  Seriously.

In the last few days I’ve seen these fools get on the bus with the smelliest slices of pizza you could imagine.  They talk with their mouth full, spewing forth explicit language and partially digested globs of filth.

You’ll never see anyone but a dumb white guy do this.  I try not to judge people based on their appearance, but seeing these idiots makes me uncomfortable to be caucasian.  I’ve seen drunken asians and delerious aboriginals carry themselves with more self-respect.

So to that end, I’ll be in the market for a decent hybrid car in the next few months.  I’ll have to talk it over with Reiko, of course, but having a car here and at the ready will be one less thing we would need to worry about after starting our lives together in Canada.  It would also give me one less thing to actively ignore.

I stopped fighting when I was 12 years old.  It was no longer worth the hassle of getting hauled into the principals office and being sent home after the phone call to my father.  But it’s awfully tempting to stoop to the same level as these fools and forcibly evict them from a moving bus.