No.4~ Spiraling into Sensational Bouts of Road Rage: A Series of Level-Headed, Reasonable Observations
As a kid, living in America (hum along!), and also being male, I was interested in one thing more than almost anything. You know what I mean, LADIES: mathematics. Haha, LOLOL just kidding (OR AM I), what I really am talking about is cars. I had seven hundred thousand Hot Wheels cars, one for every hour of my life. I sold them for a shiny, shiny nickel. I also played a whole lot of racing games. I played the same French countryside level of Need for Speed 4, the demo version, from a disc that came inside a computer magazine (of course there is a YouTube video of it, THANKS INTERNET), I raced it so many times that I could execute it with a level of accuracy normally reserved for describing successful laser eye surgery. You are confused right now. I can feel it. I say all this because, to this day, I continue to be a fan of driving. I like getting up in the morning, taking a ride around the French countryside (I live in France), then pulling into the office in Atlanta (also I live in Georgia) after a nice morning commute. NEVER HAPPENS. Why? Because three out of every three people who get driver's licenses are nowhere near ready enough to get into these giant moving weapons. And it's not just teenagers. What teenagers lack in experience, they more than make up for in state-mandated driving instruction courses. They've had to log hours upon hours of driving time with a licensed instructor, like one has to do for a pilot's license. Did you know that in most states, if you're over 18, but you have never had a license, if you pass the "road test" (There's a cone! IT IS A CHILD DON'T HIT THE CONE), and you show proof of residency, you do not need to endure an instructional period of driving? You can literally drive off the lot that day, having never driven on a real road, with other real living people, and animals, and cones that are actually children. That is crazy! HOW IS THAT ALLOWED Here is an important distinction which is frequently ignored: A person's ability to control his or her vehicle is not indicative of that person's awareness of, or interest in, the state of control in which his or her vehicle is at any given time. I am talking about oblivious people. I spend a lot of time driving in Atlanta, and I can tell you, Atlanta is all like, "Oblivious drivers: I has it," and then kisses its miniature giraffe. I spend some of my time for work in Toronto. "What are you, Canadian, now?" -All of my super-extra-clever friends. One thing I recently noticed was the difference between how traffic flows in Atlanta and in Toronto. There is a highway in the Toronto area, the 401, and it is the busiest highway on this continent. It is eighteen lanes wide. That is a baker's dozen lanes, plus five more lanes. Naturally, I try to avoid that highway at all costs, because More Lanes does not equal Less Traffic (Math, again, LADIES). I don't always take that highway, but when I do, I drink Dos Equis. Also, when I do, I have noticed that everyone is just driving . . . slow. They are all creeping along, barely breaching 2 mph (~828.5 kph I believe), but never faster, and never slower. Compare that to a city like Atlanta (or NYC, or Washington, or probably LA, I don't know, I've never been there because I lack the necessary actor-grade bone structure to "make it" there). A few weeks ago I was on a highway in metro Atlanta, probably 9am. I'm driving along at 70mph. Suddenly I need to slow down. A lot. A LOT. Oh no oh god oh no oh god, okay, I'm fine. I'm fine, but I have come to a complete stop. Whyyy? That is a great question. 10 minutes later, after stopping and starting for 35 total feet of road, traffic opens back up to 70mph. Again: Why did we stop? WHY AND SO: Instead of commuting on the highway, most days I take back roads. That's great! Except for one little detail, they are all one lane each way. Inevitably, for a person who drives somewhat faster than the speed limit, this raises two issues. Issue 1 is the Toyota Corolla that was last serviced during the Cold War. It is the UPS truck whose driver is on his last strike and will not crack 20mph no matter how much you yell. It is the lady in the SUV who bolted out in front of you with barely any room to spare, apparently in an unbelievably huge rush to get out on the road so she can go as slow as possible from that point on. You cannot pass them, they clearly cannot be bothered to notice other living and breathing human beings around them, and everyone cannot wait to just be anywhere else on earth than right there at that moment. Issue 2 is the guy who is treating this residential road as the pilot program for Autobahn America. No speed at which you will drive will be fast enough for him. If you are driving 45 miles an hour over the speed limit, he will be driving inches from your bumper, and miles above your break-even patience level for people being assholes. This guy needs to find the nearest ravine, preferably a canyon, most preferably the Grand Canyon, and then find himself with an insatiable interest in the idea of freefall.