Every hobby-related community tragically has a toxic stereotype affiliated with it, and all I’m addressing in this unofficial disclaimer (in which I attempt to talk you out of looking me up and proceeding to key my car — which I’m not going to disclose the make/model of) is that I’m 100% okay with your hobby. Working on your car is beneficial in almost every way — Knowing the in and outs, excitedly buying parts online, and showing off your art makes you happy, and I am in no way putting down your passion. I’m just addressing the reckless behavior that’s displayed way too often in our parking lot.

I roll out of bed at roughly 7:40, get dressed, brush my teeth, chug some water, skip a meal because it messes with my caffeine intake, and drive off to work. On my drive, without fail, I get cut off by a lovely BMW 3-series, which must’ve been the model where the turn-signals don’t work, and I pray — Every. Single. Time. — that they’re not going the same way I am. Then, I see it — a SAN MATEO COMMUNITY COLLEGE DISTRICT STUDENT sticker.

Bro, I’m going 45 in a 30 zone, but apparently that’s not enough to get a whopping one-car length ahead of me as we awkwardly get stuck at the same light. Sure, on paper you beat me, and congrats on your victory, but we’re still late to class and you still park by your friends’ cars further than necessary, just to have the proper parking lot aesthetic of keeping all your cute cars together. Just make sure you use a different filter to cover up the reflection of your tears streaming down your face as you remember you pay 20% interest and your insurance is $250 a month.

Take your flex somewhere else — Even though we have a third-party Starbucks, this ain’t no 24-hour Starbucks parking lot for your ‘95-’02 Civic meetups, with your ripped out-mufflers, but here you are: As the car screams in pain, you consider it the roar of a lion, while most of us hear a John Deere lawn mower running over a golf ball, uttering its final screeches until its death. I’m sure the professors at the Pacific Heights building are already miserable having to trek away from the main campus, only to hear the shrill of death causing irreplaceable damage to their ears. Also, do yourself a favor: Take off the sticker of your car’s Instagram handle that covers up half of your rear windshield — Don’t you at least want to look back to see the reaction of the person you cut off? Isn’t it a bit weird when a friend or family member has an Instagram account dedicated to their pet — Yet people make ones for their cars?

Don’t worry, muscle cars, I haven’t forgotten about your antics. A straightaway is your domain, with your pure unbridled horsepower, because the track was too intimidating to take on with your God-awful weight distribution — You rip it down a community college parking lot doing 40. It’s not that I’m not down to get blasted by a car to help pay for wherever I end up transferring to, but I’m fairly sure that the speed which is being used for the purposes of flexing will transfer me to the afterlife. Do us a favor: Turn down the dad rock or your Lil Uzi, save yourself the gas, and put others in danger on Highway 35, not on Skyline’s campus. The last place I’d ever want to die is a community college parking lot.

Finally, turn down your subs! I’ve never met anyone who thought, “Wow, how cool, their music is loud, good for them!” I guess it’s alright because you’re giving otolaryngologists decent job security, so… Thank you?