|Driving by Dave Nichols|
Background Info: Angelica is talking to friends at a restaurant about the differences between Italian and American drivers. Italian accent.
It's like this, see. You guys don't do it right. No, just hear me out. You don't. In America you treat driving like it's a responsibility. In Italy, driving is an expression of your personality.
Okay, some of you do it okay, but mostly it's the brain-dead teenage boys who're trying to prove what big men they are -- they drive recklessly and call it brave.
In Italy, we don't think about brave or chicken, we think about owning the road. Yeah, I know it's just an expression here, but there it's a lifestyle. If we drive like lunatics, honking and yelling, that means we're alive and loving it, and we don't care who knows it.
Here, you act like breaking the speed limit is a tragedy, and if you get pulled over by the police it's the end of the world. In Italy, the speed limit is a suggestion, an idea a few people agreed on and then refused to worry about. If a policeman bugs us, we look at it as a chance to work on our verbal communication skills. Telling off a policeman is a point of honor with us.
You Americans dent a fender and you fall to pieces, worrying about insurance and lost time. In Italy a car without war wounds is either a showpiece in a garage, or the charmed instrument of an experienced driver who dares the rest of the world to conquer him.
You want to live? Walk away from a five car pile-up with a smile on your face.