I am not surprised that my first non-introductory blog is on driving as I do it for 120 miles every day in my commute to work. I love my job (in one city) and where I live (in another city) so it was a choice. I don't know how people who either hate their home life or hate their job commute though, I would get so angry. However, I do know one thing, and it is that no one knows how to drive properly, besides myself of course. =}
The Fast Lane. It is for the big boys. If you are not ready to play with the big boys, do not even think of putting on your left blinker. For all the over forty year old men, in their pick up trucks or SUVs, who drive in the fast lane to prove they are manly and may not understand this concept, lets compare it to sports. Let's put it this way, the fast lane is the Major League Baseball of driving. You are only drafted into the Majors as a pitcher if you throw fast and well enough. You should only be driving in the fast lane if you drive fast and well enough. It's that simple.
If you wear a suit M-F and own a squeaky clean huge pick up truck with nothing to haul, simply because you know your wife stole your manhood on your wedding day, that is fine. Just don't slow the rest of us down.
I had similar frustration towards a freshman from James Madison University on Friday afternoon as I rode behind her going 55 miles per hour on a 65 mile per hour road. How did I know she was a freshman you may ask? Well, as I tried so very hard to pass her, I was essentially riding in her back seat as she and her very best gal pal, dressed for the beach, danced to the latest Katy Perry Song. You are in Virginia. You are not a California girl. This is not a laid back driving on the beach kind of road. It is an interstate highway, speed up, move aside, or be prepared to be tailgated. And I don't mean the kind where you get sloppy drunk and eat hot dogs before a football game.
My favorite traffic creator that I have found thus far in my years of driving, was actually spotted yesterday. She is what I like to call the soccus mater, which is Latin for Soccer Mom. I spotted her on the black pavement of interstate 64, creeping along the left hand side in her Ford Freestyle, with sponge bob playing in the back seat. Mini-Vans, especially mini-vans with televisions spark a whole debate of their own. However, this soccus mater held up not just me but 23, yes I counted, 23 other vehicles behind her as she drove perfectly perpendicular with a tractor trailer. When she finally edged up the courage to pass the truck we all sped past her and I am sure more than half of us gave her a look that wouldn't but could kill.
Now do not get me wrong, I have had a reckless ticket and I have cried myself out of way more tickets than cops should allow, so I am far from the perfect driver but I do know that if I am not passing anyone I should move over to the right so people can pass me. It is just the way it works to make traffic move along with ease.
This inability for people to understand the rules of the road will never cease to amaze me as I work my way to and from work. I do know one thing though, even if you are driving a bus that will explode if it goes over 50 miles per hour, and someone is doing 80 behind you wants to pass, you still shouldn't try playing with the big boys.
