Have you ever wished you had a voice activated, moving LED sign attached to the rear window of your car? Imagine if all cars had them? Mine would be very active.

I spend a lot of time on I95 – the only major road from New York to southern Massachusetts where I have a small seaside shack. Therefore I can only describe typical drivers – extreme tailgaters – that I encounter from this 200 mile regional stretch. And I have to say they are mostly men.

Most of the road northbound after New Haven is only two lanes in each direction. The speed limit is 65 miles per hour. This is a busy road and it’s hard to keep passing and weaving let alone speed more than 10 miles over the limit. The best thing is to keep moving with traffic and have something interesting to listen to. Trucks and buses are not allowed in the left lane except to pass. Some are better than others at observing this rule.

The now defunct (too many accidents and lawsuits) Fung Wah bus was a notorious menace on the road. When you saw them fast approaching in the rear view mirror you had better move over because they would continue to bear down, inches away and ruining your driving pleasure, until you let them pass. A friend who often comes up to my house swore that when the Fung Wah bus went by he could see terrified faces of the passengers pressed against the windows. The fares were something like $15 from New York to Boston so I guess it was worth the risk – for the ones who lived to tell.

Around Stamford arrogant suburban men of all ages are a common sight. Generally they are corporate types and their driving habits are probably just an extension of how they behave in business and in life. Entitled, aggressive and exerting power through their leased latest version generic luxury sedan. Sometimes you see them speaking into their headsets as they impatiently whiz by, full of self importance. Even on weekends! These are the ones I most enjoy blocking from passing, delighted in seeing them fume in the rear view mirror.

Some guys driving pickup trucks or service trucks also like to demonstrate their muscle. Sometimes it’s the small business owner driving a shiny new pickup truck. He’s the man! I once got into it with such a guy in Rhode Island who would not yield and let me ahead of him on an on ramp – even though I had the right of way. It was purely a race to get in front. Now I would like to be open minded and not judge but I do want to note that he had a Trump/Pence sticker on his pristine white GMC truck. And sometimes it’s workmen who perhaps need to show dominance on the road because they don’t get to at other times. Often they are smokers and will flick their cigarettes out the window as they finally pass you.

I admit I was surprised to notice that older bikers are often quite responsible drivers – and more so when they travel in a pack. My only experience with bikers was when I lived on the Lower East Side in the early 1980s. I would walk by the NYC Hells Angels Headquarters on East 3rd Street and they were scary looking. I loved the spray painted mural of a fist outside their office that said, “When In Doubt, Knock ‘Em Out”. Now getting on in years with their wisps of remaining rebel hair tied into a thin pony tail sticking out from under their helmets, their wild driving days are behind them. I always give a thumbs up if I see a particularly customized bike, a lovingly created representation of the individual’s spirit.

Teenagers and young men on motorcycles that weave and play high speed chase games with each other are just asking for it. I dated an ER doctor many years ago and he called these guys “organ donors on wuh-eels”, emphasis on the “h” in wheel. He was annoying but that’s another story.

Slick men in their 30s and 40s that I imagine to either be in the music business or startup tech bros driving very fine cars like $130,000 G wagons, are the worst. You usually find them within 15 miles of NYC. When they come too close I deliberately block them from passing so I can enjoy watching their tantrums. If they have a pretty trophy girlfriend in the car, seeing her eye rolls of disgust (at the guy) are an added bonus.

A small percentage of asshole drivers along my route are women. And usually it’s young women with attitude though occasionally I’ll be passed by a sour middle aged woman. A friend in LA said he thought the meanest drivers were young women. The ones with expensive and pretty cars purchased by their rich fathers, driving fast while checking their phones and flipping off anyone who honks as they wander, distracted, into other lanes. It’s no surprise that LA has its own lengthy list of bad driver types.

Oddly I don’t think I have ever seen an aging hippie Baby Boomer or their just as crunchy hipster offspring in a sensible Subaru (complete with Bernie 2016 sticker) driving like an aggressive jerk. Usually I’m the one bearing down on them.