Perhaps it’s because I started out late in the driving game and lack many of the necessary motor skills to ever make it in the Indianapolis 500. When I take to the highways, it’s preferably with someone else behind the wheel. In addition, my mechanical expertise extends just about far enough to get the doors unlocked from the outside of most car models if I have the right keys and to exit from inside most U.S.-manufactured vehicles. Forget those foreign jobs that hide the door handles in strange places.

I can, fortunately, describe what’s wrong with the car to a qualified mechanic, providing such highly technical information as: "It’s making this funny ‘clink, pang’ noise up toward the front somewhere" and "It’s not out of gas, I don’t think."

Despite this total lack of interest in what makes internal combustion engines combust internally, I’m essentially a "careful" driver and have been involved in few serious accidents in the 30 years since I withstood the trauma of obtaining a driver’s license. Perhaps that is because I usually let someone else do the driving.

In addition, I’ve used every possible mode of transportation in lieu of a car when I couldn’t obtain some form of public transportation, including the unheard of practice of walking to actually get somewhere instead of just going around the block 15 times for the aerobic benefits.

Therefore, I’m very tolerant of other drivers. After all, if you get a reputation for being a back-seat driver, no one wants to transport you anywhere. Since I don’t want to dry up my means of mobility-without-driving, I seldom criticize anyone while I’m actually riding with them. However, when the car is stopped, there is little danger in offering a few helpful hints that may help prevent heart attacks among your passengers.

And even as a passenger I can criticize others on the road. For instance, just the other day – this is the absolute truth – the car in which I was riding came upon an out-of-state vehicle parked in the main traffic lane of the US 211 bypass around Luray while the driver consulted a very large unfolded map. I won’t repeat the simultaneous comments of my car’s driver and myself, but it was a form of criticism.

Since I’m most often in a position to observe drivers from an objective viewpoint – usually in the front-right position known commonly as "the dead man’s seat" – I have become something of a self-designated expert on driver errors and have devised an informal classification system based, of course, on scientific principles.

Someday I hope to write a book about it. For the present, here is a small sampling of my compendium of driver species:

Excessivus speedus: Commonly called the roadrunner, this animal is characterized by the impetus to get everywhere in a hurry, even when there is no need to rush. They leave tracks of rubber at every stop sign and traffic signal. Their distinctive physical features include a guttural "busted muffler" mating call, oversized rear appendages and bright colors.

Creepus crawlus: A species prevalent in rural areas such as the Shenandoah Valley which competes for survival with Excessivus speedus. A close biological relative of the turtle, Creepus often has a 1971 Ford Fairlane carapace and is impervious to the sounds of auto horns and the sight of shaking fists.

Cruison controllium: A recent mutation, these large sleek specimens most often are found on superhighways. Their peculiarity is a steady, constant speed, usually slightly above the posted limit, which causes them to race up behind others and swerve sharply into the passing lane, where they frequently trap unwary victims. Nothing short of an actual collision will cause them to slow down or speed up. They are usually not armed, but definitely dangerous.

Touristivum aggravatus: A migratory species which prevails in the north during the summer and the south during the winter. They can be easily identified by their out-of-state license plates and bulky luggage carriers. In the evening hours, they typically creep along curbs and roadsides seeking overnight shelter. If a "no vacancy sign" is spotted at a distance, they speed back into the line of traffic, causing flurries of avoidance maneuvers among the native breeds. (A subspecies, Newjersey aggravatus grandus, also makes U-turns on midtown streets and cruises midroad.)

That’s just a small sampling of what I’m confident will become a classic text for driver identification.