THE NEXT TIME you are driving your automobile, check your rearview mirror. The eyes that you see are mine. I am a road hog, a tailgater, an annoyance, a danger, your worst nightmare.

Trained to drive on the streets and highways of the Bronx, I wish to drive five miles an hour faster than you when I am behind you, and when I am in front of you, I wish to drive five miles an hour slower.I pass you on the right and ignore all safety regulations. To me, a stop sign means yield and a yield sign means go. Yellow traffic signals have the identical meaning as do green ones and my right foot is always as far down as possible on either the accelerator or the brake.

At times I use my directional signals as a decoy, so as to hide my true intentions from other motorists. At other times, I leave these flashing, seemingly in perpetuity, as if indicating a right turn around the planet. And I keep one hand on my horn, ready to blast if you delay even one nanosecond after the traffic light turns green. My other hand hangs loosely out the window and is used only to communicate my displeasure and impatience with your driving.

I am always in a rush, exceeding the speed limit, eyes darting to and fro', hither and yon, seeking the tell-tale signs of the hidden official vehicle equipped with siren and lights. I am acquainted with all of their hiding places, and my radar detection device remains well-maintained.

In the world of accidents, I am never a victim, only a carrier of the disease.

I ignore lanes, weaving from right to left in a seemingly random manner. I exploit the shoulders of the road if they serve to allow me to pass you. Of course, I never permit any other driver to pass me and will strain my engine to its maximum output in order to prevent this.

I have no qualms about cutting in front of fire engines, ambulances and other emergency vehicles but will tail these closely if I am in heavy traffic so that I can speed ahead of all the courteous motorists. I am never intimidated by the size or the heft of your vehicle and am equally rude to oil rigs, large semis and motor homes.

When I see a sign indicating a lane is closed ahead, I immediately move into this lane until the last possible moment, and will cut off the driver who has been so foolish as to be patient and wait his or her turn.

Similarly, I show no mercy to others who need to make last-minute lane changes, and will refuse to allow these vehicles to move in front of me even where they have with greatest respect requested such accommodation.

The weapons in my arsenal include my high beams, my horn and an assortment of profane statements.

The next time you are driving your automobile, check your rearview mirror. Then pull off the road and wait for me to pass.