I know it shouldn't bother me, I know it flat out makes me a Grinch that it does bother me, but I don't care.
Hey Lady, we know. You're driving a goddamn Ford Windstar. By default we know that you either have the model nuclear family, or you're an illegal immigrant cruising around in a beat up '96 Toyota Sienna...Soon as I pull up on the side of you and confirm whether you have outrageous chrome rims or not I'll know which one you are, I don't need the silhouette advertisement of what you and your family have going on for activities this weekend.
