Sunday - June 20, 2010

Road Rage

Grrrrrr.

You know what pisses me off when I’m behind the wheel? Other drivers. Stuck on stupid.

Sure, this is New Jersey. And the expectation is that everyone will be speeding almost everywhere. Especially on the highway. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine. Just don’t glue your vehicle to the passing lane on the highway and go no faster than 2 over. That’s you I’m talking to, entire state of Pennsylvania. Speed it up, or move it over. On single lane roads on nice days, you do the speed limit. Because the reality is that this isn’t the maximum speed you are supposed to drive, it’s the speed that you are supposed to drive. Not 30% less.

And you old farts. Yeah, you, the DMD/OGBs ( Dead Man Driving / Old Guy in a Buick ): your car has a gas pedal. Really, it does. Even your Buick. It’s where your foot should be when it’s not actively pressing the brake pedal. Try pushing it with your foot. The car doesn’t have autopilot. You aren’t saving any gas by putting it in “D” and just letting it go. But you are pissing off a whole lot of people behind you. And we know that you know that, and that this is the only way you can get your rocks off since your dick stopped working 35 years ago. Knock it off. Because you are expendable.

Gliding out to the end of the entrance ramp and then coming to a stop and then checking for traffic is stupid. You have mirrors, use them. And it’s annoying as hell when there’s a line of cars behind you, as there always is, because you’re a slow ass motherfucker. If your glaucoma is that bad, get off the road. If you can’t stand the sunlight even with those full face granny shades you wear, get off the road. If you’re such an addled old ninny that any speed over 35 is frightening, check your saggy old ass into a nursing home ... and get off the road. If you can’t drive the speed limit or drive along at the speed everyone else is doing, you’re the problem. You can tell because there’s a line of 20 cars behind you. Always. Everywhere. Screw you and your passive aggressive bullshit Mr. Greedist Generation. My size 10 is going right up your benefits laden retired ass unless you stop blocking traffic. This message applies even more to the middle aged yuppies and preppies who drive expensive and powerful sports sedans, like BMWs and AMG Mercedes. Cars with fantastic and powerful engines. Driven as if they were pedal powered. Slow as molasses. Afraid of the tiniest bit of cornering. Not only are these drivers jerks, they’re pompous assholes for choosing such vehicles and not having the skill or desire to drive them as they were intended. Not in the slightest. Trade it in. Go get a crossover minivan thingy from Infiinity. Just as “luxurious” but not at all scary, if that’s what’s keeping you back. And the rest of us won’t expect any performance driving from you, even though some of us know that that Infinity has 300hp under the hood and can actually handle a bit.

But highways are one thing, and regular town roads are another. And there sure seem to be a whole lot of drivers without much in the way of smarts. Or attention. Tell you what, if you really need to talk on that cell phone, or send somebody a text message, pull off the road. Somehow folks who can carry on a conversation with the other people in the car while driving can’t manage to talk on the phone behind the wheel. And the texters? You’re trying to get us killed. Not just yourself. I didn’t sign up for that, thank you. Go home and kill yourself. We don’t want to be part of it.

And you, the lazy bastige who never does a walk around, a “pre-flight” check on your car. Who doesn’t know that their brake lights don’t work. Or that their turn signals are out. Or that they have things dragging on the bottom of their car. Or one tire mostly flat. Geesh. Fix the car or get it off the road. Or those One Headlight Wonders and their first cousins the “I don’t need to turn my lights on until it’s utterly and fully dark”, who are closely related to the “I don’t need my wipers when it rains; I can see around all the raindrops” simpletons. You guys are idiots. Oblivious arrogant morons. If it’s getting to that time of day when half or more of the vehicles you see have coming the other way have their lights on, it’s time to turn yours on too. Hey, maybe you have Miracle Vision™ and can see in the dark. Who gives a shit? Turn your lights on so that we can see you. And this goes especially for those folks who had the “wisdom” to buy pavement and weather colored vehicles. Asphalt black, fog gray, and even dirty snow white in the winter. You’re hard to see. Flip ‘em on already. It’s called thinking about someone else for a change instead of me, me, me.

But the drivers that really provoke my ire are the ones who expect me to take part in their driving. The ones who don’t bother to look before turning, the ones who pull out with the expectation that I’m going to slow down and dodge for them. The ones who stay right next to me in the left lane when the sign says “left lane ends 1/4 mile” and make no effort to either speed up or slow down. Usually the only effort they do make is an effort to go just fast enough to stay in my blind spot. Asswipes. You expect me to speed up or slow down for you, or to jump out of my own lane so you don’t pile into me or the guardrail? I ought to let that happen. I really should. Arrogant fuck. You deserve to get into a crippling accident for your douchebag antics on the road.

The ones who don’t know what a turn signal is until they’re actually turning piss me off too. Oh sure, give everyone else a sudden panic attack because you just decide to jam on the brakes for no apparent reason at all! And then when we’ve all just scrubbed 5000 miles worth of tread off our tires to avoid not creaming you, and given ourselves a nice hearty surprise dose of adrenaline THEN it’s blink-blink blink as you make a left. At 2mph. You festering crotch wart. And don’t tell me that the corner caught you by surprise. You make that same turn 10 times a week.

So I’m coming home today from my morning job. Coming down the hill just outside of town, doing the 45mph speed limit.  I’m about 2 seconds from a cross street on my right, the little back road that goes into the back of the grocery store parking lot. And this woman in a white Toyota Avalon is coming out, just sitting there at the stop line. And she looks right at me and pulls out to make her left. And doesn’t even step on the bloody gas. Nothing. Just lets off the brake and slowly glides out into the street. If I’d been texting, she’d be dead. If my car was in crappy running condition with bad brakes, she’d be dead. If I had worn out tires, she’d be dead. But I don’t, so she isn’t. I jammed on the brakes and came to an eyeball popping stop maybe 10 feet from her car door as she slowly crosses in front of me. And she’s giving me the hairy eyeball and yelling out that I’m a jerk. Fuck you bitch. Did you think your millisecond of eye contact was going to make my car slow down by flamin’ magic? That that eyeblink was permission asked and received? Or is it that your brain is so addled that you think every road situation everywhere is “alternate merge”; the car ahead of me went past you, so now it’s your turn to go, and you’re going to take that turn thank you very much no matter the fuck what? It ain’t like that sweetie. There’s a thing called right-of-way. And you, on a side street with a stop sign, pulling out across traffic onto a busy road, don’t have any. At all. Which means you wait. But you wouldn’t know that, I know, because I see you and the rest of your relatives blowing past the yield sign just down the street every single day.

Sometimes I wish I had a rusty old tank to drive. A real one. I don’t even want the cannon, just the 8” thick armored steel front end. Or a ‘72 Vista Cruiser station wagon. (same thing almost) Some heavy duty accident-proof I-don’t-give-a-shit mobile. Maybe something with a great big snowplow on the front. Eye level. Just for revenge. Just to help Mr. Darwin thin out the losers from the gene pool. Because they’re out there, and they’re breeding unchecked.

And don’t even get me started on teensy tiny timid women who drive those houseboat sized SUVs. 10 under everywhere, 0-65 in about 30 minutes, full stop before turning, incapable of being driven on their side of the lane in a parking lot. Make that whale swim honey, or go get a Corolla. I don’t buy your “I only drive this for the kids” crap. I see you almost every day in that beast, and it’s always just you inside. Always. I walked past your Moby in the parking lot and looked in the windows. No soccer goals, no massive pile of kiddie toys. No quarter ton of power tools and 4 ladders. Just your iPhone socket, your travel latte cup, the dry cleaning you picked up, and 2 little plastic bags of groceries. All single serving sized stuff too. You ain’t foolin anybody.

We seem to have an awful lot of stupid drivers. Self-centered, unskilled, isolated, unthinking, inattentive, and distracted. Piss poor behind the wheel. And New Jersey has flatly turned down my request to mount Hellfire missiles to my roof. Hey, I’d just be helping everyone else out, come on! And I only asked for 6!!

Me and old Mr. Darwin have a solution. It’s brutal, which is how you knew it a Drewsolution would be. But it would work real well. 

Stuff this “junior operator” license bit for new drivers. Let 13 and 14 year olds on the road with just a written test. But not in cars or on motorcycles. Around town only, on mopeds and little scooters. 100cc and under, 3 speed auto transmissions. With bicycle helmets. The ones who survive can graduate to 250cc motorcycles at 16. Manual shift, with their butts out their in the elements. And real full face helmets. Still not allowed on the highways though. Teach them to be aware of everything, all the time. Everything. From engine speed to gear selection to road surface conditions to flying bugs to the smells in the air you breathe. That’s what motorcycles do. It’s another weeding out process. At 17 they get to drive cars. Small ones. Manual transmission only, semi-anemic 2 liter 4 cylinder engines. and the car has no radio and no iPod port. After 6 months of that we let them on the highways. 3 years of that and they might have enough awareness ingrained in them to be reasonable drivers the rest of their lives. And every 5 years when that license gets renewed, they have to pass a written test, and eye test, a reflexes test, and a significant road test. Maybe we’ll have a few less idiots that way. And a lot more people who learn to love driving, who know their limits and their vehicle’s limits, who thus pay attention and engage in the verve of it all, and who don’t become a hazard or an obstacle for the rest of us.

Posted by Drew458     on 06/20/2010 at 12:37 PM   
Filed Under: • planes, trains, tanks, ships, machines, automobiles •  
• Comments (7) • Trackbacks(0)  Permalink •  

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It's been a long strange trip without you Skipper, but thanks for pointing us in the right direction and giving us a swift kick in the behind to get us going. Keep lookin' down on us, will ya? Thanks.

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