The Dark Side of Car Enthusiasm

I have a problem. There, I've admitted it, and apparently that's the first step on the long road to recovery.

My particular issue? I judge people by their cars. I know, I know, I've said in the past how much I hate being judged myself, and yet I do it to others! It's terrible. But I still do it...

This morning I was behind an ageing Saab 9-5, in silver, with a tow bar and a British Bulldog sticker on the boot. We entered a slight patch of fog (by which I mean slight - visibility limited to only a few hundred metres) and the foglights came on. Oh dear.

Immediately I imagined the worst, not helped when whoever was behind the wheel decided to stop driving very slowly and drive very fast instead. I jumped to all sorts of conclusions, and these are they:

1. The driver was a man (I know what they're like, after all I am one)
2. He is northern, and in his forties or fifties.
3. He likes caravanning.
4. He doesn't hold with foreign food.
5. He begins broad, sweeping homophobic and racist statements with the words "I'm not being funny, but...". Too right mate, you're not being funny, but not the way you meant it. 
6. The Daily Mail informs his views - he especially harks back to the days when Our Lady Di was still around, though he won't entertain conspiracy stories involving the Royal Family.
7. He'd like the death penalty re-introduced for murder, homosexuality, paedophilia and Jeremy Clarkson.
8. He thinks the BNP are a reasonable political party, and although he would never vote for them he thinks they should have a voice.

All that from a few details of his car and the way he drove. 

Thing is, I can't convince myself I was wrong. Judgemental git.