2 min read
It was, by any standards, a spectacular manoeuvre. Despite the fact that the road was choked by double parking and school-run traffic, the female driver of an ageing Previa seemed unconcerned about the obstacles around her gatepost. With indecorous haste she fired the motor out of her driveway, turning in a balletic swerve (and near miss with several Volvos) which was little short of poetic.
An isolated incident? Sadly not – well, not here in the ghetto of north Manchester. Instead, it was just another example of a vexatious breed of motorist, rarely troubled by the potential hazard of, er, other cars on the road. I speak, no less, of Jewish female drivers.
No, do not adjust your hubcaps. I did say Jewish female drivers. What's more, I make this declaration as someone who is Jewish, female, and, well, you can guess the rest.
You can spot them a mile away (in fact I'm practically on first name terms with half of their personalised number plates). They're the ones who overtake on the inside as you try to edge into Marks & Spencer's car park. Or whose curve-ball parking outside the butchers as they race in for a flank of brisket has little recourse to the Highway Code. I'd wager there isn't a single manoeuvre in the lexicon of appalling motoring which hasn't been unequivocally nailed by the Jewish female driver.
Of course, criticising female drivers – both anecdotally and scientifically – is nothing new. Countless pieces of research testify to the fact that when it comes to factors such as navigation and spatial awareness, we are less capable than men.
But none of these studies have yet to factor in a variable that takes bad female driving to another level entirely: being Jewish. This piece of research is all mine – though I admit empirical evidence is purely anecdotal. But believe me, it's enough.
For example, take a trip – and I suggest that unless you have decent life cover, you walk – to any block of kosher shops and you'll spot the Jewish female motorist in her natural habitat.
Yesterday was a classic example. Inching carefully down a double-parked road I was suddenly confronted by a low-slung sports car, as a woman I know, gums rotating like a washing machine on final spin, was too busy beckying into her hands-free to notice she hadn't allowed room for either of us to pass. Enough to give you a heart attack (not that an ambulance could get through).
Jewish female drivers are virtuosos in non-committal motoring. They think they want to go left, then they want to turn right, indicator flashing on and off like a cardie on a British beach in August.
Am I being disloyal to my sisters? Well, if post-modern Jewish feminism is all about being given an equal voice, then surely I'm allowed an opinion. Anyway, I do have some sympathy. After all, aside from the physical limitations identified in the studies I've mentioned, part of the problem may well be that the average Jewish woman simply has too much to think about. Likely to be a working mother, as soon as she gets behind the wheel she'll be fielding angst-laden calls from friends about the rigours of Year 6's maths homework. Or mentally wondering whether to make cherry pavlova for her 25 Friday night dinner guests.
I know there are plenty of safe female drivers out there (most insurance companies see us as a safer bet). And I'm not a perfect motorist either – I'm still brooding over netting points on my licence for doing 37mph in a 30mph: I was going down hill and didn't realise my car had picked up speed. No, the judge didn't buy it either – though it is the truth.
But I'm afraid you'll be hardpressed to find a more distracted, indecisive or disinterested demographic in the world of motoring than that of the Jewish female driver.
Hopefully, there will be some women who'll read this and perhaps consider the value of my observations. Others may already be mentally roaring with disapproval. Of course
you have a
right to an opinion.
Just don't think
about it when you're driving.
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