This here bringer of the pooper to the fun party

Very Best of the World’s Worst

After watching last night’s premiere of “The Very Best of the World’s Worst Drivers: 2” I tried to figure out what is was about these very best worst drivers that made them the very best, but not really the very best, because the if they really were the very best, wouldn’t they have been featured on “The Very Best of the World’s Worst Drivers: 1” ?

Since I never saw the first part in this riveting two part series, I can’t really say why these very best worst drivers were relegated to “The Very Best of the World’s Worst Drivers: 2” although I think I can say with confidence that because I come from a long line of volatile Southern women, I can pretty much guess what went on in that first episode.

So I’m thinking, since all the drivers on last night’s episode were really just the very most annoying worst drivers, maybe the very best worst drivers who made the cut, who starred in part 1, were the type of drivers who seem to drive badly to the common, boring, law-abiding motorist, but who really are the ones making all the aggressive moves and driving the way everyone else would like to drive but are afraid to.

Like my husband.

My husband is the very best worst driver in the world, and if they made bumper stickers about being proud to be the wife of very best worst driver, I’d be covered in them. I’m a pretty good worst driver, having made my fair share of illegal u-turns using sidewalks, but when it comes to breaking the law with an engine and four wheels, my husband should be serving 25-to-life just for the speed at which he snaked a left turn in front of oncoming traffic this morning.

One of the reasons I married my husband was because of the way he drives, particularly for the way he can maneuver a full-size truck as if it were a wet noodle. I, too, regard double yellow lines as suggestions, and we can both roll through a stop sign with the imperceptible grace of Baryshnikov, but, seriously, the man plays hopscotch with a 3,900 lb vehicle every time he hits the road.

I guess my point is that I’m pretty sure that the drivers who made it into “The Very Best of the World’s Worst Drivers: 1” are probably the very best very worst and all, and that some of them when pulled over for drunk driving and asked if they have any physical ailments that might impair their ability to drive, will respond like the lady last night who said, “Yes, I have five tattoos.” But, really, if they don’t have video of my husband barreling down Los Feliz on only one of four wheels, then they really need to just shut up.

  • 1. I don’t hit anything; 2. I’ve never been remotely associated with an incident of road rage; 3. Most LA drivers are stoned or talking on a cell phone; 4. Los Feliz is a great road to drive; 5. She loved it when I snaked the left turn this morning, tires screeching.

  • Lin

    My father was obsessed with being a perfect driver–and passed on that to me, at least. My sister took more after my mother and would take to asking me on the interstate if she could change lanes or not. That was always reassuring.

  • My mom is big on “defensive” driving so I drive very much by the book: I count to three at every stop sign and everything.

  • Think college aged girls in cars they can not afford. Toss in your typical 18-24 year old hot-rodding idiot guys (me included). Stir. This is were I live, I drive a short three mile to work across town and usually see three wrecks a day.

  • Well, living in Lebanon makes you one of the worst drivers that can ever be, compared to normal people that is, but here it is considered a “macho” thing. it’s a driving hell in here, I drive with one rule, “if my car fits in between, even barely, then I’ll pass”

  • Human Encyclopedia and I were driving around in L.A. the other day, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you’d have to be one of the very best worst drivers just to get around, let alone LIVE in L.A. on a daily basis. So kudos to you and your maniacal-driving hubby. I think I’m a good candidate, though, considering I drive 150 miles everyday, and I spend half of my commute doing 90 miles an hour while asleep at the wheel. [As the saying goes, “When I die, I’d like to go peacefully in my sleep like my grandfather did, not screaming in terror like the passengers in his car were.”]

  • Maybe “The Very Best of the World’s Worst Drivers: 2” is full of drivers who are just as bad as those on vol. 1 but have achieved their superiority in bad driving only since Vol. 1 was already released!

    Oh, as for my driving, I prefer to refer to it as precision driving…sounds more positive than best worst driver.

  • I saw this show as well last night. I tried to watch the football game but had to keep returning to the VBWWD2.

    I am always amazed at the people on these shows, and the part that struck me the hardest was how they used tricky lens lengths to show how close cars were to big rigs and big rigs to cars.

    I am quite sure that the big rig driver’s answer to the chase-camera-car’s command of “Get closer, it doesn’t look close enough on film!” was, “If I get any closer I could be accused of molestation.”

    My favorite was the lady in the British death trap who pitched a fit to the officers who pulled her over because her kid was bouncing up and down on the back seat with his head out the sunroof as she drove through an intersection.

    I love people.

  • ME

    Will y’all be making it on to The Very Best of the World’s Worst Drivers: 3?

  • My wife, She Who Must Be Obeyed, is unusual in that when driving, she is a magnet for The World’s Best Worst Drivers. The day I passed my old car on to her, she got hit. On her way to the hospital for a key appointment, she got hit. Parked in front of our house, she got hit. She’s a pretty careful and sane driver, but if they want an endless supply of clips for these shows, they should just follow her with a camera. Good thing she doesn’t live in the same town as your husband.

  • As long as your husband isn’t one of those jerks who decides that when the highway isn’t moving fast enough it’s acceptable to use the paved shoulder as an “overflow” lane, he’s fine. There’s a difference between a “fast, impatient” driver and a “bad” driver. The former will sneak a left turn when he knows its within his vehicle’s powers to do so. The latter will sneak a left turn when he thinks he’s entitled to.

  • renaat

    my father’s a terrible driver, but he’s never had an accident. I like to think of myself as a by the book driver, and I’ve had four crashes in the last two years (including one with a traffic sign which just came out of nowhere).

  • kgjbnme

    I’ve been in many wrecks (two major, half a dozen minor); it’s just one of the many reasons I’m destined to forever live in cities in which driving a car is unnecessary. I stand in awe of the Best Worst-Driving Husband, and of the Dooce who consents to ride with him.

  • I’m paranoid in every car I’m in. Even with my Dad and he’s a great driver. I don’t know what I have to be so worried about most of the time. Although, I’m the best driver in the world and there’s nothing wrong with MY driving. It’s everyone else in the world that sucks.

  • The term ‘brainless aggression’ adequately sums up the way both business endeavors and vehicular excursions are undertaken in this town. Not a single bastard driving an SUV here seems to realize that they are blocking the view and undermining the safety of anyone unfortunate enough to be stuck behind them. And who are these self-righteous assholes who think they can sit in the fastlane and go as slow as they deem appropriate? Furthermore, why do these legions of lame L.A. drivers become so incredibly inept behind the wheel at the slightest drop of rain? God I HATE this town.

  • I didn’t start off on the right foot. At the exam station, the lady at the counter told me to get my car and pull up to the green door to pick up the examiner for the driving test. I backed my car out, but cut the wheel too much and put a nasty-looking gash in the side of an old Plymouth Valiant. I went in to tell the lady behind the counter about my accident. She said that I should return to my car and wait. I did. Another lady came out of the green door, looked at the damage and told me not to worry about it because it just blended in with the rest of the dings and dents. She opened the passenger-side door of my mom’s Torino and said, “Let’s go.”

  • I didn’t know you were married, I’m gonna stop reading this website now.PS: Personal message to Chad (above): you need picture-in-a-picture.

  • I’m an excellent driver. Of course I’m an excellent driver.

  • The Sole Rule of the Road: All traffic signs with white lines around their edges are optional. Careful inspection will reveal that this includes stop signs, yield signs, speed limit signs, one-way signs, no-turn-on-red signs, and many other helpful suggestions from the local Road & Highway Department.

  • Living in LA as you do, I used to fall into the trap of thinking that I need to race around at 80, pass other cars effortlessly, and creat emy own lanes on the fly.

    Now I embrace my bad driving. When I’m behind the wheel now, I don’t spill as many cokes and I get more sleeping done.

  • you are right about the not quite the worst drivers so not really so bad at all thing. i’ve seen some pretty bad drivers, but the most disturbing thing i ever saw was a person reversing down a hill at high speed for no apparent reason. i was a youngster of about eight and it REALLY flipped me out. like as if all that was right in my world went suddenly very askew 🙂

  • Love the blog, would like your email address, if that’s appropriate? I have a “circumstance” and have been referred to you…

  • Jen

    I saw that show too. Do you remember the crazy oriental lady with the kid in the backseat? I thought she’d never shut up!

  • Yeah, but does your husband do the whole “backing out with one arm behind the passenger seat” thing? Damn, that is hot. And it makes any man’s hotness quotient jump five notches.

  • One Hot Ho

    I still remember the time Tony had to take me to work in my then boyfriend’s father’s 84 Mustang. Tony, you see, was from Buffalo, and you would think that every inch of his 6’4″, 300 lb frame would have been engineered to drive in a snowy, icy, Baltimore morning rush hour. Lulled thusly, we approached the redlight gingerly, with Tony’s 15 minute silence beginning to grate on my nerves. To this day I’m not sure if he saw the other vehicle crossing the yellow lines or if he started to lose control of the car at the exact same moment that I lost control of my giggles. He pulled the wheel of the car hard to the right and we spun into a Dukes of Hazzard turn, accompanied by the maniacal laughter coming from deep inside my chest.

    When I came back to my senses, Tony was staring at me with wild eyes as I sat clapping pattycake style and chirruping madly, “That was fun–let’s do it again!”

    “Damn,” he said, “You’re one hardcore bitch. I shit my pants back there.”

    And he wasn’t kidding.

  • As the proud recipient of the Biggest Traffic Hazard award in my graduating class, i am slightly offended that these shows have yet to have footage of these so-called “worst-drivers” hitting the sides of their own garages, plowing through a stop sign (the actual sign not the intersection), or taking out two mailboxes in a single reverse…you know, those finer touches ot bad drving that are so much more subtle. Not that I know anyone who has done that stuff…

  • illinois

    you all just stay out of the left lane and you’ll be fine – that belongs to my husband – no matter how big you are, how fast you are going, or what you are packing; the left lane belongs to his majesty the king of all idiots.

  • SUFFERING THROUGH IT

    It is a proven fact, no it’s not, that all spouses are the very worst drivers in the eyes of their other half. My wife, without my knowledge and using methods unfathomable to me, has installed in every vehicle I’ve owned for the last twenty years a special invisible pneumatic brake. It is on the passenger side of the car. The only way I know she’s done this since it is invisible is that every time the speedometer needle reaches more than three point two seven miles over the speed limit, or the car three cars ahead of us in the lane next to us puts on its brake, I can hear it make a long painful hissssssssing sound as if someone were sucking air in through clenched teeth while getting a shot. Where does she buy these? Who sells them to her? When are you going to install a spell checker on your site?

  • WYLIE KYOTO

    My grandmother had Alzheimer’s but sharp vision; her significant other was playing with a full deck but couldn’t see the broad side of a barn. So she would drive the ’67 Valiant around town and he would navigate from memory. They got away with this for a few years with miraculously no mishaps, but I think this is why I pretty much try to avoid driving altogether! They can’t be the ONLY geriatric Bonnie & Clyde out there.

  • You guys are such a bunch
    of retards…wait till your husbands passes someone in a two lane, hits head on a pregnant woman, only the kid dies
    and your husband paralized from neck down, youll see how funny it is…..