Signs you might be a HORRIBLE driver

In the last few weeks I've been amazed at the sheer number of godawful idiot drivers out on the road. Please, boys and girls, make sure you aren't doing of this stuff because it means you can't drive:

1) If you are incapable of staying in your own lane--the most basic and simple task of driving--you are more likely than not a horrible driver. More than that, you are functionally retarded and should simply stay off the road (or maybe consider killing yourself).

2) If you insist on driving 15 mph under the speed limit, then become angry and speed up whenever someone tries to pass your sorry ass, you might be a horrible driver.

3) If you tail-gate people who are already going 15 mph over the speed limit, you might also be a horrible driver. Cork's rule of thumb: the more you tail-gate me, the slower I drive. This is a residential area, not the place for NASCAR you jackass.

4) If you make dangerous, last-second turns in front of oncoming traffic, you might be a horrible driver.

5) If you never use your turn signals you are a horrible driver.

6) If it takes you literally 20 minutes to back out of your parking space while a huge line of cars is waiting for your slow ass to do something (god forbid), you might be a horrible driver.

Thank you. That is all.

Safe and Economical Driving The Cell Phone Way

Last night driving home I had two cars at two different times driving slower than usual in front of me. It was the slow lane, so such snail-like speeds aren't that unusual, but the cars were both newer and not Woody Allen comedy cars (you know, a "Smart" car or some other little circus clown car), and the drivers were not 90 years old, but young (much younger than me-and strangely enough, the number of people much younger than me seems to increase with each passing year) and vigorous looking.

It was only when I passed them that I noticed they had cell phones glued to their ears. It then occured to me that cell phone use while driving might not be such a bad thing. Reducing speeds saves lives, doesn't it? Driving slower saves fuel, doesn't it? (the fuel savings, I've heard, can be as much as 25% when driving 65 MPH instead of 80 MPH).

So let's pass a law requiring people to be on their phone whenever they're behind the wheel. It will save lives and gas! And if you think my sample is too anecdotal, well, so what? The state and its "lawmakers" are completely arbitrary in what they make illegal, as experts have informed us that using a hands-free phone while driving is no safer than holding a cell phone to your ear, but they haven't made using hands-free phones while driving against the law...yet.

On the Road With the Young and the Old

Who are the more dangerous drivers to those of us in the middle (no longer young, not yet "elderly")?

If we take the Toyota acceleration problem as an example, older drivers appear a bigger menace:

In late February the Los Angeles Times published an analysis of all 56 Toyota fatality-associated sudden-acceleration cases over last decade, using information from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) and elsewhere. The Atlantic's Megan McCardle did supplemental research on ages. She found the overwhelming majority of drivers were older than 55.-Why Do Toyotas Hate The Elderly?

For a comparison of whippersnappers and geezers, see the charts at Grannies vs Teens: Who’s Scarier on The Road.

Late Night Drive

Did you know that you can fall asleep with your eyes open? while driving? while dreaming of trucks as strange dragons and dinosaurs, mutating into ever odder forms as they pass you, flying by on wheels made of melting monsters? It happens, though thank God it didn't happen last night.

I was tired when I started, my front seat companion more awake than I was. I was prepared to prepare an uplifting hot beverage to take along, but could not find the cups, the damn paper cups. I heated the water in the microwave and had my tea while standing in the doorway, the garage door open, the auto waiting for its inevitable adventure. Then, after finishing off the tea, I popped open a can of cola for good measure and gulped that down as well. I was ready, sort of. Though all that diuretic liquid would have consequences later. Whatever, there are always rest stops.

The drive started fine, with the usual stop for gas (or unusual, as I have started filling the gas tank the day before) this time at the Chevron, which had regular for only 2 pennies more a gallon than El Cheapo Gas across the street, which is where I usually go. This time I was off to a very late start, why oh why can I never pull myself away from the computer on a Friday night. After merging onto the freeway I realized I'd left my good glasses (blind as a bat without them) back at the house. Damn! Those are my decent pair, the ones that DON'T make me look like a complete four-eyed dork. Imagine having to go to work with the ones I had on. Plus the lenses on these were all strangely scratched , making clerks give me equally strange looks in response when I went shopping while wearing them (or maybe it was something else causing those looks).

"My glasses, where are my glasses?"

"Pull off the road so we can look."

No, not on the freeway, I wasn't going to. That's for real emergencies (well, this was one too, but not enough of one to risk life and limb over). Instead I drove on to the backtracking exit, briefly confused as to direction to go, saw the lights, turned left and made it to a brightly lit parking lot. I went to the trunk and looked in my bags. I never forget my glasses. I made a quick call. Look for a black case, soft, yep, those are them.

I drove back to the house, retrieved the glasses, and was happily on my way again. An hour into the drive I knew I wouldn't make it. There is no worse feeling than being so tired all you want to do is lie down and fall asleep, but know you can't, no matter what, and with hours still to go. Awful, awful feeling. The rest stop, not the answer, no time to sleep, lower back killing me. I stop anyway, get out, use the cricket filled rest room, avoid the cricket filled sinks. Back to the car, trunk open, searching for my giant Wal-Mart bought bag o' teeth-rotting candy. Candy will do it! It will keep me awake! Yeah, right, any excuse to eat candy will do.

Almost there, just a few miles to go, and my passenger seat buddy says, are you all right, want me to drive? What? Now? We're almost there, coulda used you way back there, friend. Now I'm on a mission, and I'm going to complete it. I'll have been tested, unlike anyone else. Ready to run for President now. I have the experience!