An open letter to the people of Boston

We just got back from a very enjoyable visit to your fair city. From Marathon Monday through to Thursday we experienced your burg and did the marathon (spousal unit only) and tourist thing, enjoyed the sights, the history, and the pubs, all the while keeping an eye out for those missing R’s. (I knew it was time to leave when I was beginning to sound like a  local: “Is theah a place heah wheah ah can pak mah cah?”)
Unfortunately, except for Marathon Monday, the weather was terrible, but you can’t be held at fault for that – even the combined intellects of the 287,361 university and college professors who live in and around Boston isn’t enough to control the weather. Nor predict it, as each day was a fresh surprise.
But I do have a couple of observations and suggestions related to your driving habits.
When you took delivery of your new Volvo, the sales rep probably pointed out that lever just to the left of the steering wheel. That is a turn signal activating lever, intended to be used to advise other drivers and pedestrians of your intent to change directions. It is NOT a handy hook for your man purse.
Second point, once accidentally activated by placing your man purse on the lever, it is customary practice to remove said purse and cancel the flashing signal light before the fourth intersection in which everyone around you expected you to turn left, only to be disappointed and surprised when you drove straight through that red light.
Red lights. In most jurisdictions with which I am familiar, the approved signal for accelerating (i.e. “flooring it”) when approaching an intersection is a yellow light, usually a stale yellow, but definitely not red. I’m sure you can appreciate that if red didn’t mean STOP then there would have to be another colour for that, and I’m also reasonably sure your signal lights didn’t offer a 4th option. So try to stop on a red light; the life you save may be mine.
And one last item. When you pull out in front of another driver in a 40-mph zone, causing that driver to smoke his tires to avoid an overly intimate encounter, it is customary to get up to speed quickly and not take 3 blocks to do so. I know you are environmentally conscious, but trying to save gas by letting your Mercedes idle up to 40 mph just doesn’t work. German engineering is not THAT good.
So in my personal (and very unofficial) ranking of North American drivers, Boston has now surpassed both Toronto and Montreal for the worst drivers honour. Whereas Toronto drivers are totally unpredictable and Montreal drivers are overly aggressive, Boston drivers combine both traits, being simultaneously aggressive and unpredictable. Obviously a source of pride to some, it’s also a dangerous combination.