To the Nissan 350Z I taught a lesson to, on the 134 today, on the way in to work: Nothing personal, it's just business.

You see, a black Mustang like mine is a magnet for overstyled, Japanese sports cars that want to live up to their advertising hype. Therefore vigilance against Infinitis and Nissans is a perennial must. And just these two marques, by the way. Others are happy to drive their way into lozenge-shaped anonymity.

For reasons I could only guess, buyers of cars such as yours are desperate to show that they're legit performance machines. They prowl rush-hour traffic for stray herds to pass and cut off. And while my six year old, American-made GT hides its age better than a country-club socialite, the temptation to teach you guys about torque always makes my right foot itch. Until I bring down the hammer. But like I said, it's nothing personal. It's just national pride in the era of globalization.

So, while at times I can see the appeal of the machine for which you just plunked down $30k plus, know that all the flashy movie cuts, bad-boy voiceovers, and "hip" camera angles are no substitute for what really matters: competence, courtesy, and heart. And an American V-8.

Sort of awkward when we pulled in to the same parking lot at work, wasn't it?