Here’s an embarrassing driving situation, the kind of thing that can haunt you for several hundred miles. One of those incidents you can’t just shake off. Like the time you almost got killed by the big tractor-trailer, and had to pull off the road for about twenty minutes and listen to your heart slamming up against your rib cage? BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! Well, this next thing is just like that, but this is one you do all by yourself. Did you ever pull up to a red light, and go a little bit too far into the intersection? Just a few extra feet? So, you put the car in reverse and back up ju-u-u-u-st a little bit. And then you forget the car is in reverse? And so you sit there, innocently, waiting for the light to change. Looking around. Eager to get movin’ again. Don’t wanna keep the proctologist waiting. Da-dum, da-dum, dee-dee, da-dum. At this point, folks, you are truly an accident waiting to happen. An insurance claim in progress. So, you sit some more, and you sit some more, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait. And you stare at the red light, and you look over at the woman on the right adjustin’ her tits, and you look at the guy on the left pickin’ his nose, and then finally—finally—the light changes and off you go! CRASH! CRUNCH! CRUMPLE! TINKLE! Directly backward into the grille of what was formerly a cute little red Yugo. “Holy shit! How’d I get back here? This is where I was a coupla minutes ago!” Apparently, you have to pay attention even at the red lights. I thought surely they were for resting. You know, drive a little, rest a little, drive a little, rest a little. Seemed that way to me. Guess not.
--Oh, Brother!--
Here’s a little red-light story somebody told me a long time ago. This guy’s drivin’ along, he’s got someone sittin’ right next to him in the passenger seat, and he goes straight through a red light. ZOOOOM! Passenger says, “Whaddaya doin’?” Driver says, “Never mind! My brother drives like this.” They go a little farther, and come to another red light. ZOOM! Guy goes right through it! “Whaddaya doin’?” “Will you stop? I told ya, my brother drives like this.” He keeps on goin’, and now he comes to a green light. He slams on the brakes. “Whaddaya doin’?” “Well, you never know. My brother might be comin’ the other way!”
--Turn, Turn, Turn--
Now, a couple of things to remember when you’re out in traffic. First of all, never get behind anybody weird. Y’ever get stuck behind a guy whose turn signal has been on for about eighty miles? And you’re thinkin’ to yourself, “Well, maybe he’s just a really cautious man. I’m not gonna pass him now, he may turn at any moment.” And later you discover he was driving around the world—to the left!
--Slow Dancin’ in the Fast Lane--
Another pain in the ass you don’t want to get behind is anyone who drives real sss-l-l-l-o-o-o-ww. Boy, that’s good for your arteries, isn’t it? Someone really…really…sss-l-l-l-o-o-o-ww! There are two classes of drivers in this category. The first is any four-foot woman in a Cadillac whose head you cannot see. This is certain death. At first you think, “Well, maybe it’s a remote-controlled, experimental robot car. No, I can see tiny knuckles on the wheel and a small patch of blue hair.” At this point I take no chances; I pull over immediately and take public transportation. I’m not about to fuck with a ghost car; let someone else flag down the Flying Dutchman, it’s not my job. Another driver you don’t want to get behind is any man over seventy wearing a flannel cap with earflaps. In August. Keep your distance! Because, folks, you know how pissed you can get. Even though you think you’re a mighty cool customer, you do get mighty pissed out there.
--Gettin’ Even--
Don’t you occasionally wish that instead of having headlights you had a couple of 50-caliber machine guns on the front of your car? So you could send several hundred rounds of burning lead into that slow-movin’ gas guzzler up ahead? Just incinerate the motherfucker and get his ass off the road permanently? Or don’t you wish you were driving a rented car, so you could bash the asshole in the rear end, pay the deductible, and be done with the whole goddamn thing? BAM! BAM! BAM! “Don’t mind me, folks. I’m just tryin’ to ease him into second gear.” BAM! BAM! BAM! God, it would do my heart good. Or if the offender is directly behind you, wouldn’t it be nice to have an electronic message board that would rise up out of the trunk of your car and let you type in any message you like? ATTENTION, ASSHOLE! YOU DRIVE LIKE OLD PEOPLE FUCK. SLOW AND SLOPPY!
--You Light Up My life--
Speakin’ of behind you, don’t you just love it when there’s one of those guys on your tail whose brights are on? Isn’t that a treat? Some shit-stain who just had his headlights aimed and wants you to see what a wonderful job his mechanic did? You know how you handle a guy like that? Slam on your brakes and let him plow right into you. It might cost you a little money, but it sure puts them fuckin’ lights out in a hurry. Let him find his way home in the dark.
--Volume Control--
Does this ever happen to you? You’re driving through heavy downtown traffic, block to block, street to street. Busy area. People hurryin’ home at five o’clock. Maybe it’s winter, and it’s already dark, raining a little bit. You got the window open, and you can hear the rain and the traffic noise. People honkin’ at each other. Got the radio on. Got the windshield wipers going. Everything’s happening at once: radio, rain, wipers, horns, traffic—lots of noise. And you’re just trying to get across town to run an errand. And then, after all kinds of hassles, you get over there and park the car, turn off the key, go inside, and take care of business. And then when you come back out to the car and turn on the key, THE GODDAMN RADIO IS THIS LOUD!!!And you sit there, stunned, thinking to yourself, “Could I…possibly…have been…listening to that?”
--What’s My Lane?--
Here’s one of those things you have to do every time you drive, especially if you’re in a hurry. It happens as you approach a red light, and find several lanes of cars ahead of you. As you roll up to the pack, you have to decide which lane to get into. You have to guess which car looks like a good bet to take off quickly, so you can move out fast when the light turns green. With half a block to go you have to decide who’s the really fast asshole in this group up ahead. Forget the Volvo, she’s listening to public radio, and drives the way she lives—with fear and caution. You’ll also want to avoid that Toyota with the fish symbol; Christians drive as though Jesus himself was a traffic cop. And, by all means, ignore the Lexus with the heavily made-up, bejeweled pig-woman. She has the reflexes of an aging panda. Ahhhhh! Here’s the correct machine to get behind: a Camaro with. four different shades of primer paint and a bumper sticker that says I DATE MY SISTER. This guy’s a real risk-taker; full of crank, and on his way to an AC/DC concert. You’ll be home before you know it.
--Goin’ Home--
Now, one last reminder before I tow this trusty little shit-box of mine into the shop for its bimonthly overhaul. And this should go without saying. That’s why I’m going to say it: Drinking and driving don’t mix. Do your drinking early in the morning and get it out of the way. Then go driving while the visibility is still good.