Offensive Driving

As I was strolling down the sidewalk the other day, minding my own business, somebody walked out of a store right in front of me - without even looking! I lurched to a halt, but the guy didn't even seem to notice. Snarling, I sped up to within inches of his back, breathing down his neck, but the sidewalk was too busy for me to get around him. Suddenly, he stopped, and I very nearly ran into him. Taking a chance, I swerved to the left and went for it, but he saw my move and blocked me. “Beeeep!” I yelled, swerving back and forth in an effort to get around him, “Honk honk HONK!”

There was a red light at the next crosswalk and I pulled up alongside him, glaring. We both made growling noises and shuffled our feet really fast, making our shoes squeal in protest. The light changed to white-walking-man, and we leapt forward, streaking down the sidewalk. He obviously had some training as we were neck-and-neck, but then suddenly there were two people coming the other way! I was going far too fast to stop. Swerving to the right, I collided with the guy I was racing and spun out into a pole. He went through the fruit display of a grocery store and overturned.

When the police arrived the officers booked us for speedwalking and sidewalk-racing and impounded my shoes. Now I have to get my friends to come pick me up and piggy-back me whenever I want to go out. I'm just glad no-one got seriously hurt.

Sounds ridiculous, right? Well, why then aren't we surprised when this sort of thing happens every day in our cars and on the road? It seems like as soon as we surround ourselves with a few tonnes of steel, plastic and glass, nearly all common courtesy goes out the window. It's a good thing only James Bond gets the machine-guns and rocket launchers.

When I was young and foolish (i.e. sometime last week), I used to think that there was a warehouse out there somewhere, packed to the rafters with little old men and ladies with thick glasses. As soon as I put my keys in the ignition, an alarm would ring and they'd all scramble out of bed, throw on their fedoras and driving gloves, slide down brass poles and leap into their ancient cars. Soon, a slowly-moving fleet of boat-sized Crown Victorias, beige Corollas, and rusty Buick LeBarons would clog up the streets, all seemingly heading in the same direction that I was trying to go. It was kind of like trying to get anywhere in Park Royal around Christmas-time.

But that's all nonsense too. The fact is, there are a lot of cars on the roads in this city, and the people in them have all got places to go that are just as important as the errands I'm running. Actually, probably more important to tell the truth, as I'm only going to pick up milk but that guy over there is on his way to donate blood.

The Honda Civic that's carefully making its way across the Lion's Gate Bridge at 40 km/h, developing a trail of following cars like an automotive Pied Piper? Maybe they've been in an accident recently, and are intimidated by the cars rushing the other way at speeds far above the limit.

The Dodge Caravan that's taking seemingly forever to make a left-hand turn at a light? Perhaps there's a brand new baby in the backseat, and her parents are taking that extra bit longer to make sure she's as safe as they can make her.

The Subaru Impreza that's having trouble getting away uphill from a stopsign? That's probably my wife, new to driving a manual transmission.

I'd certainly want you to be nice to her, even if she inadvertently causes you a minor delay - so, what right do I have to get all bent out of shape when someone else isn't as sharp behind the wheel as I'd like them to be?

What's more, regardless of whether you tear up the roads like Michael Schumacher after four triple espressos or ooze towards your destination like a heavily-sedated sloth, studies show there will only be about five minutes difference in arrival time per hour of urban driving.

It's my belief that Carma (please note how I've cleverly spelled karma with a “C”) will catch up to you, one way or another. So let somebody get in front of you in line, let somebody pull out of a side-street, back off from that slow-poke's bumper and give them some breathing room. After all, we're all fellow travellers on these roads, and it'd be nice to get to where we're going without losing our humanity in the process.

Of course, there's still no excuse for people in BMWs who can't seem to find their turn signals.