The sun is out, its a lovely monday, and I have survived safely, trudging through my morning rush hour traffic. I can't help but feel like my morning commute is becoming more and more of a struggle each day. And its not so much that the volume of vehicles on the road is increasing. Its a mix of few things. First, is it just me or are drivers getting dumber every day? And when I say dumb I mean DUMB with a capital D. I use my cell phone as much, if not more than the average joe. Its a god send. But if you're that goddamned uncoordinated that you can't talk on your phone and peer into your rear view mirror before you switch lanes (let alone put on your turn signal) then its time to face the facts. YOU'RE A RETARD! Cell phones are great but putting a cell phone in the hands of a person who couldn't drive to begin with is like giving Hitler a pair of sharks with laser beams on their heads.
I liken my morning drive to the upstream trip of a horny salmon, racing to reach their destination so that they can deposit their load and swim home with that retarded after-sex gaze strewn across their faces. Along with the obstacle of the other fish swimming forward in a melee of tail flapping frenzy, you have to watch out for the bears (cops) and the huge, unmoving, there since the dawn of time, protruding boulders (road construction) jutting up out of the foaming white river.
I am usually not prone to explosive bouts of Road Rage. There are only a few things that set me off. Nope, I'm not that guy you see driving down the road, hunched over the steering wheel, cigarette in one hand and huge throbbing veins bulging out of his forehead. I"m not the guy that you expect is going to drive his Chevette into the concrete slab of the oncoming overpass. But I still get frustrated from time to time.
For example. How long do you have to be driving in this state (or any other) to know that the left lane is the passing lane? Its not the strolling lane. Its not the "oh look at the pretty clouds" lane. Its not the "I have a Ford Fiesta that only goes 45 freakin' miles an hour but I"m still here on the left side blocking the flow of traffic." ITS THE PASSING LANE! And if I had a missile launcher on the front of my car, there would be a lot of bar-b-qued minivans burning along side of the road. It would look like a scene from Mad Max (and not the Thunderdome movie...we're talkin' old school!)
I call these folks Left Lane Loiterers. And they are a dangerous and unpredictable breed. Often spiteful if not unreasonably aggressive. I had a run in with a Triple L this morning. For those of you who live near me, you're familiar with Route 222. Basically your run of the mill 2-lane highway where white collar wieners live out their NASCAR fantasies at break-neck speed. Its the american autobahn only the vehicles on this roadway weren't built for nor have the right to travel at the speeds they achieve on this concrete drag strip. Yet for as fast as the people are whisking along, there is always a Triple L to throw a monkey wrench into the mix.
So here I was, 7am this morning just as traffic was picking up. And I"m hauling balls down 222 making great time. Howard on the radio, whining about something that I can't remember. And I see it. A Triple L. Traveling at 50 mph...IN THE LEFT LANE. And normally I'd break the law and pass this ween on the right side. Not today, for this Triple L had his speed matched to the eighteen wheeler right next to him in the right lane. It was a vehicular power play. I was being double teamed...blocked from the wide-open road in front of me. I could see the prize, I just couldn't get to it.
Deciding to give LLL the benefit of the doubt, I hung back hoping that either Triple L or the semi would speed up giving me room to get around. Wish in one hand and pee in the other, i always say. So after about 3 minutes of hanging behind this wall of vehicles I decided to get a little more aggressive. Not much...just simple flash of the high beams that says "hey, maybe you didn't see me back here...maybe you're half asleep, that's cool...can i get around?" You have to be careful about the preliminary high beam flash...you don't want to come across as being rude. Its just a quick flash and that's it.
No response.
Gritting my teeth I flashed the beams again, twice.
No response.
So now I'm pissed. I decide to use the full-on, in your face, screw you get out of my way you slow bastard approach. Horn and highbeams in full effect. Now I'm not sure what jarred this fatheads mind from his state of semi-conciousness but this seemed to have an affect. The car in front of me...the Triple L, began to speed up at an alarming slow rate. At first I thought maybe a back draft was giving the car a bit of a push. But no, it sped up and maneuvered into the right lane (without the turn signal I might add). So now I was free to take off like a bat outta hell. Which I did. And here is where I begin to lose it.
As I'm speeding up I notice my partner, LLL, is ALSO speeding up. As if all the sudden he was filled with some flooding feeling of resentment for me for having forced him into the right lane. I'm speeding up...he's speeding up....it was like one of those drag race scenes from Happy Days. Realizing the nonsense of it all I decide to slow down. But before I could, I decided to take a look at the driver in the LLL Mobile. I wanted to smile at him with that sarcastic grin I"ve spent so much time developing as if to say "way to go buddy, so your gas pedal DOES work!" As I turn to look all I see is finger.
FINGER! This fucker is flipping me off. I am not sure if I yelled or flipped back or what. I was so taken aback that I found myself laughing. Cackling incredulously.
Its times like those where I wish it were legal to play grown-up bumper cars cause I woulda shoved that guy off the road in a heartbeat, down into a ditch. I imagined myself smiling happily as a mushroom cloud explosion bloomed in my rearview mirror. Legs and arms and burning shoes crashing down to the pavement. That would be one way to thin the herd
posted by Michael Witmer @ Monday, February 23, 2004
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