|They see me rollin', they hatin'|
(Legal driving age is 18 in Chile.)
Yes, because, honestly, I care about voting and all, and about the buying alcohol and cigarettes thing, and about getting into clubs without having to jump all the freaking hoops in the universe, but nothing, absolutely nothing beats driving.
(Do not misunderstand me; I am a public transport fan, but, honestly. I live in the suburbs. All the fun is really far away from here.)
And now that I soar through Santiago's poorly planned streets on my endless quest to reach my destination without getting killed along the way, there is, oh yes, a to-do list to be completed in order for me to be the utterly coolest driver in the city:
- I need the freaking best CD collection in the 'hood.
- I need to find the purrrrfect driving sunglasses.
- I need to learn how to change lanes without risking about 10 lives in the process.
- Keep a decent bag of makeup in the car for me to apply all my shindyshags while stuck in traffic, looking like a complete boss.
- I think the list ends here.
Roads, here I come.