I drive a Subaru Forester. It is not a turbo. It doesn't have a hemi in the boot for added torque or anything like that. It's a pretty straightforward, boxy-like vehicle that smells vaguely like cheese, but in a good way.
I drive it rather unadventurously back and forth to work five or more days a week. The great thing about not having a life is there's little to interfere with being a drone and I have been a Drone's Drone for decades (and have the trophies on the fireplace mantle now that you ask, but you didn't).
I putter the twelve plus something miles from my house to my work in the oh dark thirty of the early morning, between the casino shifts at Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun before the first shift at EB takes to the road.
I use the state highway to go to work. It's two lanes, a lot repaved last fall so it's in pretty decent shape unlike so much of the infrastructure with which we surround ourselves, and traffic, at the hour I drive it is okay and not too much of a problem.
Coming home in the afternoon, because now, psychologically we're on 'my' time, I bang the left at the Mohegan Pequot Bridge which has been the subject of constant expansion discussions for the last decade and a half (all the time the Mohegan Sun casino on the far shore of the Thames River has been open) but nothing has been done.
The Q Bridge near New Haven on 95 is well over half way finished but that was done with mostly Fed dollars and boxcars full of 'em and this one would be about the same cost but there's no money and there's no work-around while they take the bridge apart so this isn't happening any time soon.
The drive home is a LOT more intense. Yesterday the guy one car behind me in the right lane, the lane that disappears as you head over the bridge after you make the left at the light. I believe, based on his behavior, thought he had a Testarossa. He actually had a Tiburon.
And that, my friend, is why you only saw the back end of a Forester all the way over the bridge, no matter how much skittering you did back there, but also why I offered you a rigid digit salute as you passed me horn honking but then missed your shift and fell off the pace, badly. Laugh? Not even the half of it. I thought I'd die banging my head on the dash.