Who Taught These Idiots to Drive?

I’ve driven many miles, through almost every state
From Jersey’s boring Turnpike to that foggy Golden Gate
But of all the things that I detest, there’s nothing that I hate
More than driving on that parking lot we call 128...

I learned to drive in saner climes--with courtesy and care
Where right of way meant something; where idiots were rare
But driving here is one thing for which no one can prepare
Part skill, part luck, part suicide--and more than one part prayer

(Chorus) Who taught these idiots to drive?
Who told them the speed limit was really 95?
The last time someone yielded here was 1945
Who taught these idiots to drive

One’s climbing my rear bumper now, without an inch to spare
His muffler’s dragging on the ground--he doesn’t seem to care
One hand dials the telephone...one hand combs his hair
He’s got one hand on the radio, and one hand in the air

He switches lanes at random, though it makes me curse and swerve
He turns every bend in every road into a dead man’s curve
He thinks each highway merging lane is just a test of nerve
Someday if there is a God, he’ll get what he deserves

I know he’s in a hurry...I know he’s late for work
But just because he drives a SAAB, there’s no need to go bezerk
I’m going to the Registry--to find the low-life clerk
Who gave a driver’s license to that big fat stupid jerk

(Chorus)

They never should have let this guy drive an automobile
His foot is lead, his eyes see red--he has no sense of feel
Chevy put the horses’ power into that hunk of steel
But who’s idea put that horse’s ass behind the wheel?

I’d like to teach him something as we drive along this route
Of rules and signs and right of way--and turn signals to boot
But I know it wouldn’t matter...my talking would be moot
He’s just a piece of road-kill, dressed in a three-piece suit!

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