We’re being invaded. Gone are the days of the economy car. Today we are faced with the specters of the SUV, casting its long shadow across the highways and byways of the US like a convoy of tanks that come with factory installed portable DVD players.

I won’t go into one of the main reasons why I don’t like SUVs. Which, of course, is the fact that they eat gasoline like a bulimic eats chocolate cake only to expel its noxious fumes into the air making our air quality disgusting.

I won’t even discuss the fact that most of the people who own SUVs don’t actually need its specific abilities. My neighbor, whom we refer to as icehole, uses his to drive to his job and intimidate people into giving him a better parking spot. The closest he’s ever come to off-roading is parking in our grass because he can’t be bothered with finding pavement to park on. He hauls exactly nothing. He’s never hooked up a trailer nor has the damn thing ever even been dirty.

What exactly do some of these people need this much car for? Going to church? Sure, if Jesus was preaching the Sermon on the Mount and there were no paved roads, I understand. But I live in an affluent area. Most of our churches have paved roads. Hell, most of them have valet parking and complimentary washing and buffing of the sins.

It has nothing to do with utility, which is the whole point of an SUV. Sport (An active pastime; recreation) Utility (Designed for various often heavy-duty practical uses: a utility knife; a utility vehicle) Vehicle (A self-propelled conveyance that runs on tires). Not using the utility portion makes it a pointless endeavor. Rather than taking something that hogs up resources and doesn’t actually fit on the road and making it useful, my neighbors have turned it into a status symbol. It’s an SSV. Status Symbol Vehicle. It’s a pissing contest.

Here’s how it works. Neighbor A buys an Explorer making Neighbor B feel impotent. Neighbor B trades in his mini-van for an Expedition, making the Explorer look like a Passat. Neighbor A, undaunted, scraps his Explorer and buys a Land Rover, complete with mountings for a gun turret. Neighbor B, buys a Hummer, keeps the Expedition and leaves it running on the driveway 24 hours a day, to prove that he needs not worry about gas! Neighbor A builds his own SUV out of the discarded shell of a 747 and a decommissioned nuclear reactor.

Meanwhile, the cloud of fumes blocks out the sun and our non-renewable resources expire. My neighbors are left in their driveways scratching their heads while I drive by on my Segway, mooning them (which is hard considering I need both hands to drive the thing).

But I digress.

What I find deplorable about these machines (which do have a use, I do not deny) is the fact that the people driving them do not, in fact, know how to drive a car of unusual size. They are rocketing down the highway in a two-ton death machine while reading the paper or applying make up. Parallel parking? Impossible, unless it’s on the tarmac of the local airport. Parking in a parking lot? No way. In fact, you can see a segregation going on at the local mall. Up front are the economy cars, in the middle are the luxury sedans and WAY in the back, with three spots between each are the SUVs, usually straddling two are three spots.

Worse, they can barely keep themselves in their lanes. The highway has become the adult version of dodge ball. I feel like I’ve come to the game armed with a kooshball. My little economy car is no match for their steel tanks. I’m dead meat.

Two weeks ago I was driving in a construction zone. The lanes were haphazard and almost non-existent. I hit an SUV. We pulled over and inspected our cars for damage. I had a dent on my door. The SUV had nothing.

The owner comes out and exclaims, “This thing can survive anything!” Giggle, giggle, giggle.

I’ll try harder next time.