I Like to Think of it as a "Love Tap"

So I know that I have mentioned the drivers in Rome; and I know that Chris has a blog entry that he is waiting to post until he has a good picture to accompany it, but this entry from me could not wait.
For some reason the drivers here in the hub of civilization are among the worst in the world. The Italians, and Romans in particular, have given the world so much. Like who isn't amazed by the Pantheon and the Forum and those amazing aqueducts? But I say hold your applause. While the Romans certainly mastered the art of the dome, produced amazing artists and dominated the world (at least at one point), they have a terrible time managing their Vespas, Fiats and Opels in the year 2009. I should insert a disclaimer at this point and state that not all Romans are bad drivers...but Katie did say on Jameson's birthday that he would probably be a bad driver when he grew up because he is, technically, a Roman. Even a 6 year old knows it!
The Corso di Francia is a very busy street that we must travel in order to get in to the city center. It is a 3 lane road that is regularly made 5 lane by the intrepid Roman drivers. It is usually choked with cars, and any space between the cars is filled with motorini. One day this past week, as I was driving in to the center I noticed a older gentleman in an older Mercedes-Benz making his way slowly down the hill towards the Corso di Francia. Unremarkable, especially since he was a good 18 inches or more over the line - another thing that all Roman drivers seem to see as "proper operating procedure." I made a mental note that he was one of which I should be wary, the kind of driver that could cause problems for me. I am not kidding when I say that 2 minutes later this gentleman ran into the back of my car as I was stopped at a light. He did not hit me hard. He did not hurt anyone or cause any damage. He also did not act like it was strange that he was so close to me that I could have strapped him into Katie's booster seat. I tried to be mad, but I couldn't muster the ire over my incredulity. How amazing that he apparently did not even know his car hit mine. Perhaps it was the fine German engineering in his Benz that made his senses impervious to our "contact." Perhaps he was just playing dumb because making a face or gesture to me would have been an admittance of his poor driving, or stopping, rather, ability. Or perhaps he was just practicing good diplomacy and his bump into my car was more a love tap...a way to, silently, tell me how much he likes Americans. :)