Photo courtesy of Hamed Saber/Flickr
I hope that whoever came up with the idea for two-door cars has been forced to spend the rest of their life climbing in and out of the backseat of one so he or she can appropriately regret their decision.
It’s like some dropout of Mick’s School of Car Design (or something) looked at a normal, four-door vehicle and said, “How can I make this convenient car an absolute horror to climb in and out of, and become an annoyance each time I have to unload groceries or get my skis from the backseat? I KNOW.”
And then they did this:
And they are the reason you get into a violent wrestling match with the seat belt each time you have to crawl out of your friend’s two-door Honda hatchback. Or mistakenly wear a skirt, then show your underwear to the world when you can’t exit gracefully from the depths of the stupid backseat. Or spend an interminable number of minutes groping the side of the front seat looking for the lever to pop the chair forward while everyone else (everyone else who had their OWN DOOR with HANDLES) waits around outside, sighing.