If you’re a driver who hasn’t ventured too far beyond a small-town community and plans to make it in the “big city,” you’ll soon notice a few differen
If you’re a driver who hasn’t ventured too far beyond a small-town community and plans to make it in the “big city,” you’ll soon notice a few differences. One in particular would be the traffic. Other than the weather, driving conditions never seem to get that bad in a small town. There’s usually more than enough space on the road, and everyone seems reasonably courteous. You would think I’d enjoy this more relaxed setting. On the contrary, I found it boring knowing everyone on the road was aware of their location at that point in time. This wasn’t the case in Grand Rapids. Not only did I have the weather to contend with, but there was also the issue of everyone behind the wheel completely forgetting they were behind the wheel.
My story starts on an ordinary drive to school. As usual, I was driving my forest green Eagle Talon, observing the various things people did while forgetting they were driving. I actually had a list going, which ranged from talking on cell phones to admiring their smiles in the rearview mirror. Once I even had the opportunity to add an elderly lady driving an old Cadillac and reading Reader’s Digest while going at least 20 mph over the speed limit. She was weaving through traffic, nearly hitting a new car every time she switched lanes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she decided to catch up on some knitting after finishing her article. Thoroughly impressed, but not surprised.
To be fair, some drivers were paying attention. They were very alert and always looking for new ways to screw the other drivers. These were the people whose time was more valuable than the rest of ours, maybe because they worshipped a superior God, or perhaps because they were superior Gods themselves. Regardless, they were more important than us and therefore entitled to find crafty ways to get ahead during rush hour. My daily drive to school would not have been nearly as entertaining without them.
The worst stretch of highway on my route had a shoulder roughly the width of a normal lane. Traffic was already slow, but these superior beings managed to slow it further by using the shoulder to pass everyone, then cutting back in when it ended. This was blatantly illegal, of course, but the laws only applied to us regular people whose time was of no importance.
This was also where the photo was taken. As you can see, my arm is hanging out the window and I have an unusually excited grin on my face. I actually had a hidden passion for these superior beings. So much, in fact, that I made a financial donation to each and every one of them as they cut me off. I kept my ashtray full of pennies, nickels, and whatever other pocket change I could accumulate between contributions to my favorite cause.
Every time one of them roared past at a speed proportionate to their importance to society, my donation would ping off a windshield or door panel. On rare occasions, it even made it into the car and reached the being itself. My assumption was that they would use this non-taxable income to help pay their traffic fines, take driving lessons, or put something toward their psychiatrist bills. Narcissism takes a long time to treat, I hear.
Looking back, I understand why they never stopped to pocket my offerings. Being superior beings, they probably just took everything for free wherever they went. They were entitled to it; wouldn’t you think?
Nonetheless, I got something out of the arrangement. It improved my hand-eye coordination and made the drive to school considerably less boring. After all that time observing the other drivers, I finally had something in common with them.
Something to do while forgetting I was behind the wheel.