Breaking Down Barriers

One of the things that irritates me more than anything else in traffic is Lunacy #7:

Two vehicles side-by-side on the interstate maintaining the same speed.

As such, I try hard to avoid ever being a lunacar, and am careful to either accelerate or decelerate as appropriate to break up the blockade.

Problem: today, we were driving down the middle lane of the interstate, and a white Cooper came along side me to the left. Once he pulled even with me, the old codger (talking on his cell phone) moderated his speed to match mine. After a few moments, I eased the throttle a bit to help traffic. Apparently, he finished his phone conversation at the same time, and either dropped it in a hard-to-get place, or noticed a blemish on his upholstery that needed immediate attention, and as his gaze went steadily downward, his speed adjusted accordingly.

Feeling satisfied, I put the Odyssey back in cruise control and settled back in. But not for long: soon our good friend came zipping back, and once again paused as he pulled even with me. Fortunately, he then decided to investigate whether he possessed afterburners, and I had no further blockade problems with him.

. . .

P.S.: During my brief interaction with Cooper, I kept puzzling over who he looked like. As he pulled away, I saw he advertised his last name on his license plate, and solved the puzzle. He looked like himself: I used to be on a county political board with him.

 

Why, Exactly? (II)

And she wasn’t even talking on the phone!

No, she was just driving her silver 330i in the left lane at rush hour. Nothing wrong with that, particularly. Lots of folks do that.

But they don’t usually have a quarter-mile of space between themselves and the car in front of them. And they don’t randomly change speeds. And they don’t brake when somebody in the right lane brakes when it doesn’t affect them. And they for double sure don’t speed up just as the gap is widening enough for me to get in front of them! (My pace car in the middle lane wasn’t up to much today.)

Once again: random acts of pointless driving.

 

That Is Not My Problem!

I once attended a meeting of a political group that had member t-shirts reading “Your life is not my fault,” directed at welfare recipients. A correct sentiment, perhaps, but definitely a bit rough in delivery. However, I would like one that says “Your stupidity is not my fault.” The back would read “So stop involving me in it.” (Maybe TorsoPants would sell it for me.)

I was nearing the interstate on my morning commute, having already made my solitary crazy left turn of the day. Life was good. I was on time. The Villager in front of me was slowing to turn, and then I’d have an open road. Oops, wrong street.

I was nearing the interstate on my morning commute. Life was good. I was still on time. The Villager in front of me was slowing to turn, and then I’d have an open road. Oops, wrong street.

I was nearing the interstate. I should have left a little earlier. The Villager in front of me was slowing to turn, and then I’d have an open road. Oops, wrong street.

AAAAUGH!

And the black Benz behind me wasn’t making things easier by tailgating me. I wanted to yell, “It’s this lunatic in front of me! I don’t enjoy braking over and over and over again!” Directions on the lunatic label: Slow down to turn. Sorry, wrong one. Rinse. Repeat.

If you’re having a problem figuring out where to go, pull over. Or take your first signaled turn. Or cease to exist. It doesn’t matter to me, just get off the highway until you’re ready to use it appropriately.

Thank you.

 

Why, Exactly? (I)

Northbound on our favorite interstate, just north of where I work, there are two exits on the right, plus another mini-freeway that merges in from the left. The crazier part is that those two exits on the right each take a lane with them, while the mini-freeway brings one to the party. So I merge onto a four lane interstate, get out into the third lane, and in a half-mile I’m in the first lane of a three-laner. Without changing lanes.

Anyway, the second exit on the right comes just a stone’s throw after the merger on the left. There are clear signs indicating that you cannot get off at exit 8 from this lane. It certainly doesn’t stop anyone from trying, however.

So last week, I’m heading north, and a white Mack dumper comes on from the left merger, and he’s going at a pretty decent rate of speed. Until he’s actually on the interstate. Then he slows way down, until traffic in the next lane opens, and he moves right. And he slows down some more.

I couldn’t believe it. You have got to be kidding me! Of all people, a big dumper ought to know better than to try to make it all the way across here! But now, he finally merges in to the soon-to-be right lane just in time
to move right one last time into the exit lane.

Only he didn’t.

Nope, he just gunned his motor, slowly got his three axles back up to cruising speed, and settled in for a happy drive. By this time, I was in the left lane, and was moving along past this whole charade, shaking my head in wonderment.

Lunacy #13, personified. Random acts of pointless driving.

 

More New Wheels

Well, almost.

Heading up the interstate during this afternoon’s commute, a carrier full of Camrys decided to merge from the right lane to the left lane, just as a little black hatchback merged from the left lane. (See, it all happened so fast that I don’t even remember all the different identities.)

Fortunately, the little one figured it out in time and got back in the left lane. But this caused a flurry of brakes in chain reaction, so much so that the TL in front of me swerved onto the berm to avoid problems. I was braking just fine, but with little extra room.

But I wasn’t just watching the events in front of me. As I neared a complete stop, I saw a gray Odyssey in my mirror, with the driver chattering animatedly. At about 50 mph. I consciously relaxed in my seat and waited. Fortunately for all, she noticed at the last minute, and pulled up beside me on the left, not coming close to the TL.

Lunacy #6: complete oblivion to the world around us.

The amazing part was she kept gesturing at me afterwards. Following our encounter, she continued at a more sedate pace for the next few miles. So sedate, in fact, that awhile later I merged back over into the left lane and she began pointing and gesturing at me again. As if I had no right to be there!

I’m the only one who gets to make those calls…

 

Make Up Your Mind

On our way home from the chiropractor this evening, an unwitting lunatic interfered with our otherwise uneventful interstate commute. As we were buzzing happily along, I noticed our exit approaching, and began the gradual movement rightward from the left-most lane. We continued at a decent speed past the outworkings of a cloverleaf exchange (at least, it was one on our side of the road). This exchange gave us a new driver in the right lane, which proceeded to accelerate and achieve a cruising speed similar to mine right along side of me.

Well, it was time to change lanes again, so, since I had room, I decided to speed up and get over in front of the tan Mystique that seemed permanently affixed to my side. And before you laugh, I don’t mean that in jest, because she began speeding up as I did. I let off the gas a little, and so did she. She appeared to be fumbling with a phone or a palm pilot or her brain’s remote control, perhaps, and so I didn’t notice anything intentional, but I finally had to mash the accelerator to get ahead of her.

Naturally, once I did this, she lost all interest in enhancing her speed, and settled into oblivion out of reach of my mirror. Aggravating!! But impressive. She captured two lunacies at once:

Going slow until opportunity for passing arises, then accelerating with abandon.

Going the same speed as the car in the next lane on the freeway.

Amazing.

 

I Hope She Feels Better Now

On my way to work this morning, I’m navigating the interstate in latter parts of rush hour, so we’re buzzing along somewhere in the 40- or 50-mph range. I’m in the center lane as we approach the Ridge Rd exit, and we are the fastest lane at that point. I soon see why. Ahead of us in the left lane is a black J30 with her right blinker on. She wants to get in to the center lane, and she’s gradually decelerating to help her case. The left lane is clear ahead of her.

I move on around her, and take my position in the left lane, dismissing her lunatical merging to a poor case of planning for her exit. I glance in my mirror to see if she’s in the right lane. She’s not.

As I reached my own exit two miles later, I glance in the mirror again. She’s still plodding along in lane two. Maybe being at the edge bothered her. Or maybe she confused exit 8 with exit 3, ’cause they look similar if you aren’t looking.

Or maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t thinking at all and was completely clueless as to what she had done. In which case, it didn’t even serve to make her feel better. Another demonstration of lunacy:

Random acts of pointless driving.

Make your actions count, people!

 

That’s Fine, But Not Here

After getting off the interstate towards the conclusion of my evening commute, I happened upon a little fender bender. As we all slowly hugged the grass to move around it, I saw the horrific damage. A little dent on the rear car, a little crack on the bumper of the front car. Probably close to $1,000 a-piece to repair. And our two unfortunate drivers were standing next to their demolished rides, chattering pleasantly. And blocking practically the entire road.

It’s a fender bender! Shucks, it’s not even a fender bender, it’s a fender bumper (or is that redundant).  Do you really have to wait for the police officer to investigate this?

“So, um, officer, so my car is boinked in the front and hers is dinged in the back ’cause we were, like, racing backwards and stuff and she mashed me in the nose. I didn’t even see it coming, ’cause I was staring out the back window to see where I was going.”

Hello? Another lunacy demonstration!

Complete oblivion to the world around us.

And just to ice the cake, they were blocking the road right in front of a gas station with plenty of extra room.

 

You’ve Got It Backwards

During this morning’s commute, I had the privilege of following a little third-generation Cavalier for a quarter-mile before making my daily debut on the interstate. Now, my interstate access route involves a little road down a hill, and at the bottom of the hill, a slight curve takes you onto the entrance ramp. When I say slight curve, I mean slight curve. If you were going the speed limit down a normal road and encountered a curve like this, you wouldn’t slow down.

Neither would Cavalier, under those circumstances, judging by his method of driving up to that point (and thereafter). If he weren’t a lunatic, that is. Instead, he gives us our first example of one of The 13 Lunacies in action:

Slowing down when it’s time to speed up.

I mean, come on. The folks at the end of this ramp are going to be buzzing along twice as fast as you’re going now. You should be going from 40 to 60, not from 40 to 30.

Poor guy, he was all confused at that point. He didn’t even merge into traffic until the very end of the ramp, and cut somebody off in the process. Slamming on of brakes and all that. Think how bad it would’ve been if he’d been going faster…