A Crossroads

Of all the drivers in all the world, there are many varieties. Some drive so fast they are simply blurs, others perpetually drive as if they are in a funeral procession. Some press their brakes the millisecond the light turns yellow, others take a yellow light to mean, "go faster." Some rock out to Kelly Clarkson and others listen to NPR. But amidst all these differences, there is at least one common trait that (I hope!) every single driver shares... the gift of sight.

Sure, every now and then something gets by us. "Holy S***, I didn't even see that pedestrian," or "That mailbox came out of nowhere." These are relativley small objects and occasionally these sorts of things slip out of our line of sight. As long as you catch yourself in time, these moments are acceptable.

But there is no excuse, aside from being legally blind, to not see a car. They are big, bulky, heaps of metal that are very hard to miss. Which brings me to my point: why do some people act as if their eyeballs have spontaneously dropped out of their heads when it comes to dealing with intersections??

Let's start with the classic 4-way stop intersection. The rules are simple: whoever gets there first gets to go first. What does this mean? It means that if you arrive at an intersection and you can SEE a car at any of the other three stop signs, you automatically don't get to go until every car you saw from the get-go has gone their own happy way. What does this not mean? It does not mean that if you arrive at an intersection and see cars waiting that they are simply there to twiddle their thumbs and won't mind if you go on right ahead. Wait your damn turn.

The other type of driving debauchery that occurs at intersections involves red lights in the place of stop signs. Now, I believe the problem I'm about to describe is something all of us (including me, I regret to say) are guilty of from time to time, but after this lets make a collective effort to stop, shall we?

Here's how it goes: you find yourself on a congested road that is punctuated with stop lights. You're stopped at a red light behind several other cars when, thank god, the light turns green. The excitement builds as you take your foot off the brake and start to accelerate, yes! You can make it through this green light! But wait... if you go through this green light there won't be space for you to make it through the whole intersection, but if you don't go you'll have to sit through another 5-minute red light. So what the hell, you go. And so do 4 other cars behind you. Now you can't move any further up since the next light is also red, and the people who have a green light to go across the intersection can't because there's 5 cars blocking it. Then, naturally, they honk, and we think to ourselves "Moron, stop honking, where the heck am I supposed to go, I'm stuck here," to which the appropriate response is "Well then you shouldn't have gone in the first place, should you have?" Happens ALL the time.

And it all comes back to the issue of sight. We can SEE the other cars that are driving perpendicular to us waiting to go, and we are all smart enough to know that if we block the intersection, they won't be able to. But that doesn't stop us...

What also doesn't stop us are those signs that say "$200 fine for blocking intersection." Are those a joke? Has anyone actually gotten ticketed for that? Well if you ever do go ahead and and explain to the officer, "You have to understand, how could I see the sign when my vision is clearly compromised? I couldn't even see all those cars I was blocking."

If You're Happy And You Know It, Press Your Brakes...

When you are driving at a considerable speed up to a light which, to your dismay, turns yellow just soon enough that it would be unwise not to stop, you apply your brakes and begrudgingly come to a halt. This is normal.

When you are driving at a considerable speed up to a light which, to your delight, is green... you apply your brakes anyway? This is not normal.

"Brakers" (which is my extremely polite term for these people) are all over the place. It's not just at green lights where, you may argue, these brake-happy drivers may at least be anticipating the possibility of needing to stop. Curvaceous roads are another place they like to strike, and throw even a 10 degree downhill incline into the mix and you are in for the equivalent of stop-and-go traffic.

Don't get me wrong, I'm an understanding person. In all of those situations the guilty party may be able to produce a viable excuse. "My car doesn't handle turns well," or, "If I don't brake I accelerate too fast." The one that really gets me, though, are the people who brake on a straight road with nothing but air in front of them.

What's going on there? Are they on their way to some hideously dreadful event that the foot they use to break is having a physical reaction against? Do they have some sort of twitch, in which case they shouldn't have their license at all? In the end I always conclude that they must realize that I, unlike them, have somewhere important to be and they have decided to do everything within their power to stop me from getting there. Ugh.

The other form of braking that is painfully intolerable is highway breaking. I'm entirely convinced that if people stopped breaking on the highway there would never be traffic anywhere, including accident traffic, since I'm fairly certain that a great deal of it occurs when one car crashes into another one in front of it that braked unexpectedly. Here is my suggestion: take your one foot off the gas and you won't have to put the other on the brake. Amazingly, the car does not accelerate of its own free will, so when you stop giving it the signal to go faster it will (somehow) slow down all by itself.

Storytime:

I had to deal with one of these people today. I was picking up my 11-year-old brother (who, thanks to me, may be the only pre-pubescent, non-license bearing person with road rage) from a sleepover and bringing him to soccer  practice when I made the mistake. In a rare moment of generosity, I decided to let a navy blue Volvo that had been waiting to turn left on the street out in front of me. I should have known it was a bad idea... only people who are afraid of driving buy Volvo's, the safest car on the face of the planet. Over the next few minutes, the car's brakelights blinked so frequently it was astounding that it was still moving at all. At every intersection I found myself anxiosuly waiting to see a turn signal, but to my dismay he may as well have been bringing another 11-year-old to the same exact soccer practice.

Suddenly, the melodious sound of Umbridge's theme music (a ringtone set aside especially for my mom) filled the car and I knew it was bad news.

There was no hello in store for me on the other end of the line, just: "Are you here yet? He's going to be late. I told you to leave sooner." Great.

I didn't need to leave sooner. I left at the perfect time. How was I supposed to anticipate that Mr. I-like-to-brake-like-it's-my-job was going to be in front of me for 25 solid minutes?

Finally, some higher authority took mercy on me... The volvo went left, I went right, and my heart rate returned to its normal resting state.

The End.

In conclusion, lets put a brake on the brakes, okay? We'll all get wherever we're going much faster, and after all, isn't that exactly what want here in New England?

Post-Road Rage

Hi, and welcome to my far more constructive form of road rage -- post-road rage. That is, posting about my daily road rage after (post) it happening... Clever, huh?

I've decided (and by I decided, I mean my mom suggested) that instead of yelling fruitlessly at every driver (and by driver I mean actual drivers, bikers, pedestrians, crossing guards, anyone, etc.) on the road who isn't me, I'm going to share what happens with someone who can actually hear me: you. Well, that's not entirely true... I'm sure I'll still yell at the car in front of me, only now I'm going to write about it, too.

And quite frankly, there is a lot to write about. I commute to school every day, which is about an hour and fifteen minute drive. And in that two and a half hour period each day that I am on the road, the road never fails me. Every day there is something new for me to shout about, and from now on, I'm going to make sure you're shouting about it, too.

Until next time, drive safe. Or better yet, don't drive at all.