When I first moved to Washington 14 years ago, I knew three things about the place: coffee was huge, rain was ever-present, and traffic was bad. I know the one-uppers out there will point out Los Angeles and New York City make Seattle look like an empty parking lot, but I would remind them that they chose to live in one of the worst two cities in the country to have a car, so kindly shut up and listen to my bitching.
If you know me, gentle reader, you may know patience is not a virtue I possess. If you've ever ridden with me in a car, you may know that impatience manifests itself in the occasional episode of road rage. (And if you know me quite well, you may know that I'm playing fast-and-loose in the use of, "occasional" here.) I don't see this as an anger problem, but rather a healthy hyper-awareness of those drivers who do us all a disservice by imposing themselves onto the lanes we, good drivers, are now forced to share with them. So, in the now-time-honored tradition of venting on the Internet, I dedicate this post to the drivers we all know and hate.
Every city has its own special brand of traffic, aggravated by its own special brand of douchebag. To wit, the stereotypical New Yorker is loud, blatantly opinionated, and overly self-assured. Consequently, NYC has the loud, honking variety of traffic that is comprised of drivers who are so assured of their lane position, they eschew the chore of acknowledging other cars. (Though perhaps, "traffic" isn't the right word for this NYC phenomenon, since that implies an eventual movement of some kind.) El Paso, being an actual stone's throw (or more accurately, a tumbleweed's roll) from Juarez, Mexico, has a large Mexican population. Hispanic people, to which my brother and his Mexican-American wife can attest, operate on what is locally known as "Mexican Time". Similar to the "Island Time" on which Samoans operate, this paradigm prides itself on prioritizing social obligations above timeliness and punctuality, which often results in shifting obligations back 30-40 minutes. As a result, El Paso is filled with drivers going five-under the speed limit, thus forming an impassable Wall-O-Douche across all lanes of any given highway. Los Angeles is terrible as well, possibly due to the fact that they have a lot more drivers running on "Mexican Time," but largely amplified by its abysmal public transit system--or, more accurately, the lack thereof. Let's see, are there any other regions I left out and haven't yet insulted by my generalizations? Ah yes, San Francisco! I've yet to visit the Bay Area, but I assume traffic is equally horrendous. After all, it has to be pretty slow-going bringing all those gay pride floats over the hilly terrain. There we go, everyone should be nice and offended now. But while these shades of shit may differ slightly, the same characters tend to make their appearance in traffic jams nation-wide.
Guy-Who-Doesn't-Wave-Thanks-For-Letting-Him-Merge. Sure his lane was running out and if you hadn't actively noticed his imminent predicament, he would've ran straight through the, "Careful, my daddy works here" signs into the construction zone and, in the most tragic of ironies, hit the construction-worker daddy in question, but all your heroism isn't worth the half-a-calorie it would've burned for him to signal some gratitude. The self-centered gall it takes for this guy to just assume everyone else will look out for him is astounding. If he wasn't so narcissistic, I might be impressed; that's a lot of blind faith he's putting in the average good Samaritan. Quite the sizable cajones.
Vanity Plate Guy. I'm confused about this guy. He pays 75 bucks to choose the letters on his license plate--maybe it's even a monthly subscription?!--that does nothing for him other than distinguishing his CR-V from its doppelgänger in a crowded parking garage. Of course, a remote key accomplishes the same end without subjecting his tailgaters to decipher the DaVinci Code that is your "vanity." And another thing: if you can spell out your name, go for it; if you can purchase the right to display "Fiatch" on the plate of your Fiat, more power to you; but if by the time you get to the license office all that's left is "Speedy 1" that uses "3's" for the "E's" and a "5" for the "S," just stick with the state-issued plate.
On Decals. There are a few different varieties here. First we have the stick-figure family that shows how many kids you hate (sorry, "have," damn autocorrect). Then there's the ever-urinating Calvin & Hobbes, displayed to disrespect a rival sports team or what have you. Last is the R.I.P. memorial plastered across the back windshield. Now I could make a distasteful joke about this driver meeting the same tragic fate as his lost friend soon enough since he's effectively blocked all vision out the back of his car, but I won't. Maybe Hector really wanted to be remembered by a peeling sticker on the back of an F-150 and I should respect the noble memorial.
On Bumper Stickers. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Whatever your cause is, if you display it with a bumper sticker, I am now a fervent opponent to it. I used to love animals, endangered or otherwise, but as soon as I was cut-off by a VW bug sporting a PETA sticker, I bought the first ticket to Antarctica and started clubbing baby seals in my new mink fur coat. Think about it: if traffic is moving at the speed it should be, no one is going to read your stickers. The only time people can read them is when traffic has stopped and they're necessarily in a bad mood. And they make your car look at least 4 notches shittier than it actually is. Do you know why you never see any bumper stickers on Audis, BMWs, or Bentley's? It's not because their drivers don't have opinions; it's because they keep them to themselves--and also they have good taste. Why assert your political views to vehicular neighbors on the road? What purpose could that have? My only guess is that maybe a car-jacker who is really into Obama might see your support, and instead steal the car in the next spot over. And speaking of political stickers, if the particular election for which you're giving your support has passed, take off the damned sticker. If your guy won, congratulations, don't gloat by leaving it on; if your guy lost, give it up and scrape off the Romney 2012.
On "Baby On Board" Signs. I assume these signs are meant to serve as a reminder to drive safe around the precious cargo, but that works off of the false assumption that drivers have a modicum of control over their cars during a collision. That is to say, if I lose control on the freeway at 70, I don't care if your minivan is full of babies or full of bubble wrap, I have no say whether or not I'll hit it.
Rubberneckers. Imagine this: you're driving along at a nice cruising speed, making good time, and you start to see the dreaded break lights. You come to a halt on the freeway and for the next 5 miles, the stop-and-go is so bad that you're getting shin cramps from moving your foot from break to gas every car-length. And then, finally, you reach the cause of the congestion to find the culprit was a stalled jalopy on the neighboring frontage road, being helped by a cop. ON THE FUCKING FRONTAGE ROAD! The attraction wasn't even on the road being travelled, but because Seattleites have to stop and look at all things shiny like a bunch of retarded crows, the police siren necessitated being an hour late to your game day party.
Roof-Rack Guy. If it's winter and you're on your way up to the slopes, I have no issue with you; but if it's the middle of July and you're driving around with an empty roof rack, all you're doing is scaring the shit out of speeders that mistake your car's head gear for a cop's lights. May you forever be stuck behind slow drivers that haven't realized you're a civilian.
Ghost Rider. Have you ever driven by someone who was reclined so far back they were no longer visible through the driver's window? Everyone knows that good posture is for squares, and that developing scoliosis at the ripe age of 23 is what all the cool kids are doing, so please continue to eschew the teachings of your driver to hold the wheel at "10 and 2," instead opting for a leaned-back, "12 and crotch" alternative. Sure it increases your blind spot exponentially, endangering the lives of everyone around you, but it looks so cool! And you, Ghost Rider, know cool--that much is apparent from your blasting of the Beastie Boys from your mom's Volvo.
In talking with my European friends (because I'm just that worldly) I've learned things are quite different on the roads across the pond. In the US of A, assuming you eschewed an expensive driving school, opting instead for parental lessons, a young person can obtain a driver's license for as little as $35. This has resulted in every Tom, Dick, and Harry (though the wide majority are dicks) getting a set of wheels and clogging up the roads with their mediocrity. In Germany, a license costs 2,000 damned euros, and as a result, the autobahn is never congested. Not we all know a wealth of money doesn't always correlate with a wealth of knowledge or driving acumen (Chris Gardner was not a rich man but a damned smart one, while the Kardashians have more money than they know what to do with and a half an I.Q. point to share between them), but the determination to save that sum does correlate with a respect for the license, which leads to safer driving. After recently accumulating my 7,000th aggregate hour in traffic, I am of the opinion that we as Americans should embrace this policy. It discourages driving which is good for the Earth, but more importantly, it clears up the roads, which is good for me. If every moron with $35 to spend and a buddy's car to borrow got on the road with me, I'd have an ulcer by 30 and a stress-induced heart attack soon thereafter. But until that day comes to enrage all adolescents, I propose a short-term fix. I give you, The Laws for the Proven Incapable (LPIs).
LPI.1. No texting while driving. If you want to endanger your life, by all means, do it on your own time, but don't crash on the freeway and cause a huge back-up for everyone else, you selfish ignoramus. For you, I mandate a docking system be installed in your car. Much like the breathalyzer installed in the cars of former DUI convicts, your car will not start without your iPhone being plugged in and rendered to a "Do-not-disturb" state until you arrive at your destination. To quote the PSAs, it can wait.
LPI.2. No bright headlight beams. It seems that with the development of modern automobiles has come an increased brightness of headlights. It makes a little sense: more light equals more visibility for the driver, right? Well, selfishly, this theory operates on a "no-shits-given" for other drivers, type platform. So while you're driving along, easily seeing every car and piece of terrain that you come across, the poor drivers in the on-coming lanes are subjected to your spotlight wattage, rendered blind until your 2014 model passes. So to reclaim their right to vision, other drivers must upgrade to a newer model and thus, brighter beams. Now we're in this unnecessary Headlight War of one-upmanship. LPI.2 requires all model cars be outfitted with a limited brightness. It's simple: if other cars' beams are manageable, so too may yours be.
LPI.3. Headlights when it's raining. This is already a law, folks: when it's raining, your headlights should be switched on. Why not have an automatic feature that turns on your MANAGEABLE beams when the wiper blades are engaged? We have rear-view cameras so we mustn't strain our fat necks by turning around, giant cup-holderes to feed our fat stomachs, and seat-warmers to heat our fat asses, but this functional safety feature has yet to be invented. Good priorities, automobile manufacturers.
LPI.4. No residual turn signals. To return to my offending the defenseless, this one is pointed at the elderly. If your car travels a quarter-mile or more with the turn signal on without changing lanes, the signal automatically turns off. This will prevent me and other, less-important drivers from accommodating room for you in our lane only to deduce that your forgetfulness is, in fact, the reason for your blinker still being on. That moment in which a driver realizes that their speed reduction and unnecessary politeness was all for not, is among the most infuriating instances on the road. (Good thing the elderly read blogs so much, I'd hate for this to fall on deaf ears.) How is this not a thing already? We have cars with WIFI for fuck's sake!
LPI.5. If you can steer it, clear it. At least 70% of the aforementioned traffic jams are caused by a car that has died and come to a halt in the left lane. I've been in a car that stalled on the freeway. Believe it or not, it is possible to maneuver the carcass to the right shoulder; 60 mph is a lot of momentum with which to work. But still, the inexperienced driver will freak out, slam the breaks and retire their Ford in the HOV lane for all to suffer. LPI.5 requires all automobiles henceforward to be equipped with a reserve of energy to coax the dead body to the proper shoulder. Almost like a battery of some sort...
Such are the dreams of one disgruntled roadsman. If these laws are abided by the proven incapable, I believe the streets and highways of Seattle, NYC, El Paso, and LA would be noticeably less infuriating to maneuver. If you're a sceptic, humor me by doing the following experiment: next time you're caught behind a bad driver, take a look in their window when you pass them. Were they texting? LPI.1 would solve that. Is a tailgater blinding you through your rearview mirror? That's LPI.2. And the next 5-mile backup in which you find yourself, only to find a stalled sedan in the left lane of the interstate, think of LPI.5. I'm running for office for Obama's Secretary of the Infrastructure. My name is Zack Hyneman and I approve this message.