My Never-Ending Bitching about Drivers, Part 1

One of many fine works of rolling art at
"Cruising Grand" in Escondido, CA

The American public has been long touted as having a love affair with their cars.  Yes, I’ve heard that many young folks have recently become blaséabout getting their learner’s permit – something that the youth of my generation were keen on getting their hands on the very first day they were of the legal age to hit the road.  That, of course, is a new phenomenon and perhaps a good one… unless it’s just an excuse to live at home with mom and dad well into their forties.  “Well, gee… I’d like to move out into my own place, and so would Sweetie-Face and the kids.  But you know I can’t drive, and need a ride to work daily!”

he American public has been long touted as having a love affair with their cars.  Yes, I’ve heard that many young folks have recently become

But before the detour in the above paragraph, the love affair of the car has been evident over the years.  The love affair of good judgment when driving hasn’t been nearly as close to the forefront.  People use their cars when a bicycle (or even a pair of feet) would be ideal.

I would suspect that a lot of us are guilty of some of these infractions.  Driving a block to a local convenience store when a few minutes spent walking would have been of much more benefit.  How many of you are guilty of that, or something close to it?  How about a show of hands – let’s be honest now… ah, yes.  I thought so!  Most of you (and that includes me) are guilty of this.

Then there’s the story of the genuinely lazy person who opens the garage door (using the remote, of course), fires up the auto, pops it into reverse and then backs down to the foot of the driveway.  They back out into the road and then pull up with the driver’s window next to their mailbox.  After removing any checks from the stack and throwing the bills back in the mailbox they reverse the cycle and pull back into their garage and then go back into their home.

If you have a genuine disability that prevents you from walking down to your mailbox, contact the post office.  There are exceptions that sometimes can be made for people with a genuine handicap where a box can be mounted by the front door and mail placed there as a courtesy, when delivery is usually at the curb.  If you’re driving to the mailbox because you’re too out of shape to make the walk… it’s time to put down your 64oz soda and Krispy Kreme lunch, grab a carrot stick and start training to go get your damned mail on foot!

Again, I’ve detoured.  This particular rant is dedicated to people who can’t judge distances when driving.  This is something I’ve observed both from the driver’s seat and from my bicycle seat.  The results from bad decisions about distance may very well serve up consequences that could be injurious or deadly.

Take, for instance, the driver that is waiting to turn onto the road you’re travelling on.  You see him looking for an opportunity to punch the accelerator and jump out in the traffic stream, and he decides that the space between you and the car in front of you is the ideal spot.  Sometimes this is a move of necessity, but when I’m the last car in the line and behind me is nothing but open, unoccupied highway – he could wait just a few more seconds and join the road with nobody bearing down on him.

I love having to hit the brakes when a jackass turns in front of me, only to check my rear-view mirror and see NO cars behind me anywhere.  Dude… what were you thinking?  That if you didn’t risk your life and mine to jump onto the road in front of me that you’d die of boredom from the lack of a challenge to merge with all the open space behind me?  Or are you just stupid?

It’s that kind of lack of patience – or brain waves – that get people sent to the morgue. 

To Be Continued in a Later Post…