Supermarket carparks. The last 2 places I’ve lived crossing the car park to simply pick up a couple of Tsingtao and a high carb, high fructose lunch is akin to going over the top at Passchendaele and walking very slowly into oncoming machine gun fire.
You have the elderly in their 20 year old superminis exercising a liberal use of the throttle in place of the brake and vice versa. Pinging around lampposts, bollards, families of four without having any idea where they’ve been or who they’ve just mowed down.
You have the entire family who are each the size of a dwarf planet and made of type 2 diabetes walking down through the middle of wherever you’re trying to drive despite the fact their car is parked either on the left or right of the passage.
And finally you have the people who treat something as simple as driving/reversing into a parking space as if they are trying to land an airliner that’s upside down, on fire and is carrying the cure to cancer off 12 benzodiazepines and a bottle of Jim Beam.
I can’t handle it.