Friday, September 5, 2008

Flying Low

Driving in Southern California is an oxymoron. It's more like "get in your car and prey".

I moved to So Cal a little over a year and a half ago, and I have already started figuring out the "rules" of the road down here, which means they will change when I drive to work in the morning.

  1. There are only 3 speeds: Very Slow, Very Fast, and HOLY SHIT!
  2. Turn signals are for prey animals. It means you are vulnerable and scared shit less on the roads here.
  3. Don't bother checking your blind spot or mirrors. There is someone there driving a bigger car than you and carrying a weapon. Deal with it.
  4. Horns are for music.
  5. The Freeways are designed for you to get lost on. You came, you saw, now get the fuck outta here.
  6. Failure to obey these simple rules will make you a target for road rage and the next spotlighted actor on "America's Scariest Police Chases". NO WAIT-- you have to be in Georgia for that. Sorry.

I grew up with a Military Mom (she is a retired Marine... SEMPER FI!) so I got to learn the driving habits of a lot of this country. What I haven't lived in, I have probably visited at some point. One simple observation I have is that everyone thinks two very similar things.

First, California drivers suck.

Next, the drivers where they live are definitely the worst.

Doesn't matter where you live, these truths are absolute. I lived in the Midwest for several years and on the East Coast in the Washington, DC area for a few years, so I got a decent sampling. I have also driven over most of the East Coast, New England, the Plains, and the Southwest. California goes without saying as this is home.

  • Washington DC drivers just drive stressed. There IS someone there. They can't drive, so I had better drive like a Congressman late for a political payoff so I can get there first. Even better, they have these HOV lanes that are isolated from the rest of the freeway (a la the Shirley freeway express lanes on I-395). If you fuck up there, forget it. Nice people.
  • New York drivers... We suck, you gotta problem wit' dat?
  • Johnson County, KS... We don't have a problem driving. You have a problem staying off my roads. Just because my road is in your living room is nothing to bitch about. Now shut the fuck up and get out of my way.
  • St Louis, MO... We like to think we are better than Chicago, so get off my road, bitch.
  • Arkansas... 'nuff said. Don't mess with the gun rack or I'll have sis blow yer head off!
  • San Francisco... Get your over sized SUV off my bicycle, you rainbow colored bitch! And stay off my bridge.
  • Los Angeles... Yeah, we can't drive. But neither can you. At least we all know we can't drive. Besides, bitch enough, we will make a movie mocking your ass up one side of the moon and down the other and call it Titanic II. Now get off my freeway while I apply my makeup.
  • Orange County, CA... Maybe we can't drive, but we look sooooo much better and sooooo much more glamorous at it than you do, you pretentious redneck.

I admit I can't drive very well. BossLady constantly tells me how I scare the living shit out of her when I drive. But I have noticed that whenever we go somewhere, who drives.... that's right, I DO! But that's okay. She knows she scares me too.

The reason for this mini-rant was something that happened to me today driving home from my store. I was on the 55 heading north, and (amazing, I know, but true) no one was on the freeway save this one blue-haired-nearly-dead in this big white whale of a car (I mean, this thing makes a porn star jealous it's so big!). He was moving somewhere around the speed of a drunk snail, and driving like it. As I moved to get around him from the right lane to the left, he waited till I was just about to pass him and moved over in front of me (no signal; he is a local). Thinking this fossil didn't see me, I moved over another lane and attempted to pass him. Same result. Now I am thinking this fossil is getting his rocks off this way so I am getting pissed. So I fade to the right and sure enough, he moves. I jump to the left, gun the motor and fly by him, giving him a wave and a little sign language to tell him he's number 1. The bastard couldn't even see over his steering wheel, yet was driving on the freeway! And yes, he was speeding (So was I, but that's LA).

Fuck driving to work. I am getting a helicopter. Knowing my luck, that fruit will have one too and will be trying to take my airspace.

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