I blame smartphones. And nature. And our four-second-feedback culture. Oh, and squirrels too. Bastards.
So yesterday I drove three hours for a job interview(s). And then drove back immediately. Eleven hours total. My breakfast and lunch was a new tank of gas, a granola bar, and small bag of peanuts. So I’m a lunatic [sticks hand in air] but mine doggies appreciated the relative briefness: “Oh Dad [tail(s) on auto-vibrate] we haven’t seen you in ten hours!”
Whence driving back, I got viciously passed in the highway fast lane by a Volvo (I drive a clown car). If I had not emergency braked, I’d have hit his back left bumper big time. Probably death for both of us at those speeds. I suspect he did not know I braked because I think he thought he was the overall man of the moment.
For you see, whence he passed my clown car driving his hot red Volvo, he slowed down a few feet in front of my bumper and pointed toward the right shoulder of the highway. As if to indicate one of the following non-verbal statements:
1) Get out of the fast lane where you do not belong, clown car
2) Look at how awesome my shit-hot red Volvo is, pull over to admire its redness
3) Your car looks like it’s ready to break down, please pull over to inspect it for safety purposes, signed, your fellow-concerned-human
My bet is his belligerent hand signal meant all three. On the other hand, I was driving 80 in a 60 zone at the time. So when you think about it, he was driving north of 90. Which makes him even more of a lunatic than me. Which is like trying to solve differential calculus on an abacus.
Then this morning whilst commuting to my Cubicle of Doom, the car behind me got the high-beam-flashy treatment when the car behind him got angry with his speed-of-advance. This was on a road that was essentially bumper-to-bumper. Uh…
So what’s behind all this ridiculously-impatient-reckless driving?
I blame smartphones. And nature. And our four-second-feedback culture. Oh, and squirrels too. Bastards.
When you can call up an app that tells you the meaning of life in eight seconds? Well, I guess you get a little impatient when you have to wait six seconds in your car. That is, until such reckless driving results in your untimely, early death.
On the other hand, I was the moron driving 80 in a 60 zone to get home to my dogs. So I think I’m part of the problem. Damn.
my future awaits
The Arcturus Project 