Rage in the Machine

 

In honor of my recent trip to the Pacific Northwest, here’s a piece I wrote about driving there a few years ago. Seems nothing has changed…

Why is it that when some people get behind the wheel of a car, their brain turns to mush, their decision making skills go out the window and they generally drive like their heads have been inserted deep, high and tight inside their own colons? It’s one of the great mysteries here in Pacific Northwest, like Sasquatch and the phrase “I really like the rain.” 

First, we must discuss driving in my old home town, Bellingham, WA, aka the City of Subdued Excitement.

The speed limit in and around our little town is mostly set at 35 mph on the major through streets. And yet the average driver moves along at 27 mph. Move to a smaller secondary road where the limit drops to 25 mph and speeds hover around 21 mph. On what planet does this make sense? I realize not everyone is in a hurry, but it’s awfully nice to be able to travel at a reasonable speed through town. I’m not asking for 10 over, but at least move at the posted limit. It’s a proven fact that the faster you drive, the more you pay attention to what you’re doing. So drive faster and pay attention, dammit!

I have numerous theories about why this happens. First, the persistent rain we get here slowly rots the portion of the brain that is used for car operation. Let’s call this the Automota Oblongata for lack of a better term. Speeds drop as the brain gets wetter and spongier and by the end of winter it’s a miracle we even move. It takes a good part of our already too short summer to dry out the Automota Oblongata and bring speeds back up near the posted limit.

Second, there must be very poor driver education in Western Washington. I’ve been behind the student drivers that creep along, bouncing off the lane markers, braking for anything that looks menacing (curves, oncoming traffic, butterflies, air particles). I also see the instructor in the passenger seat just sitting there, silently questioning his choice of career as life passes him by at 21 mph. I guess the old saying really is true – those that can’t do, teach.

But enough about Bellingham. Let’s talk about the big tamale, the scourge of our roads, the black plague of the Northwest – the left lane freeway driver.

This delightful individual is only able to focus on the five feet of road directly in front of their vehicle, completely oblivious to anything else happening on either side or, more importantly, directly behind them. There could be a flatbed truck full of Playboy and Playgirl caliber models having a hot Wesson Oil orgy complete with dancing monkeys and show tunes behind them and yet they just motor along like the world is erased as they pass by.

These lovelies merge onto the freeway at a soul crushing 40 miles per hour and drift slowly toward the left lane over the course of a mile or two. And there they sit, at a steady 5-10 mph under the limit for miles on end, dragging behind them a line of shouting, cussing, fire-breathing, movement-loving people that pay attention to their surroundings and actually have a desire to get where they are going sometime that day.

I’ve heard stories about some of these left lane campers acting all self-righteous and boasting how they are doing their part to “slow down all those maniacs” that are “flying along” at normal highway speeds. These smug delights must feel a huge sense of pride when they see others like me blow by them on the right making obscene finger gestures and licking the glass. Nothing like a healthy dose of impeding traffic to increase your own sense of self worth.

The phrase more than one cop friend has told me they use is, “Eight your great, nine your mine,” meaning as long as you stay eight miles per hour or less over the posted speed limit on the freeway and drive safely, you will be left alone to go about your travels. Once you pass eight, you are ripe for the plucking and will get a speeding ticket if they see you. This unwritten rule is either a complete unknown to most drivers or dismissed as urban myth. But I assure you, slow drivers, it is not and has been independently verified by numerous officers of the law.

So how to fix this scourge on humanity? Equip every car with a flamethrower that only activates at 8 mph over the limit? Allow one free murder per 10 miles driven? Require all Prius drivers to only drive between the hours of 2 – 2:10 am? 

I don’t know the right answer here, but I do know this – KEEP RIGHT EXCEPT TO PASS! Learn it, live it, love it.