I once saw (I shit you not) sixteeen Cooper Minis driving down the road, one right after another, all in a row. I sat and counted.
Hummers…Ehh. The country-girl truck-drivin’ soul in me says “Cooool,” but that’s just because they look big and menacing. They remind me of my old Bronco 2, a car I dearly wish I still had. It was huge and rattly and ancient and it once fit fifteen people. Not comfortably, mind, and there were two people in the front passenger seat, but they fit. Had a better turning radius than my friend’s sedan, too (Christ, that thing steers like a cow).
After the brief awe at seeing the two we had in town (one yellow, one camouflage) and then another…and another…and another…and I HAVE seen the stretch Hummer, it’s ridiculous…
They remind me of my constant gripe about Land Rovers – upwards of $30k for a really high-end SUV that they won’t take any further than the grocery store and would get really, really gripey if it got so much as a tiny scratch or paint-ding. In the rich part of town, you can see the pattern – SUV, SUV, SUV, Jaguar, Mercedes, BMW, Ford Mustang (a Saleen, for the kids), SUV, Minivan (wow, someone’s in the wrong part of town!), Volvo…
I want a Ford so I can fix it myself (can’t even change the godforsaken oil filter on a Mitsubishi), ora Volvo so I’ll feel safe for the rest of my life, or one of the little hybrid cars. One of those, I’m not picky. 
But I feel like some bumpersticker-vandalism whenever I see a fleet of urban assault vehicles streaming toward me from behind. Scares me almost as much as an 18-wheeler.