You should forward this post to your psychoanalyst. It's a rich, concentrated dose of mental pathology for his consideration, or maybe it's just the ramblings of an old fart looking back on a sixth of his life spent commuting. The cool kids aren't staring out the window searching for bums to beat up. (besides how would they stop the car or get the door open?) The cool kids are playing a game on the shared table in the middle of the car (the front seats face to the rear, you know) or they're working on their phablet or they're videoconferencing with their coworkers in other robocars.