Driving scares the hell out of me. Most people who say that mean other people’s driving scares them. And they are very likely justified in their opinion, since chances are it’s me they’re afraid of.
I lived in New York for six years where owning a car is not only unnecessary, it’s an inconvenience. Cars require their own rent in
Manhattan. They take up enough space in a garage to make a small studio apartment. And we all know how much a studio apartment in Manhattan costs. If you don’t already know, I’m not going to tell you. I don’t want to be responsible for your heart attack.
It took me about a month to get used to not having a car when I first moved to New York. And then I loved it. No unexpected break-downs or insurance headaches. No more dealing with sleazy mechanics who could convince me that, because the windshield wiper wasn’t working, the entire engine would need to be replaced.
I have now re-entered the world of car-ownership. I have been back for six months and have officially established myself as a local menace. The woman holding up a line of traffic going 25 mph? That was me. The idiot who drove in the exit and out the entrance, causing you to swerve in terror? Oops, sorry. The clearly unstable driver who realized too late the right lane was merging, panicked, came to a complete stop, and burst into tears? Yep. Me again.
I have learned to compensate for my ineptitude in several ways. I do not drive at night. I do not drive when it is raining. I do not drive when it is windy. I do not drive unless I know exactly where I am going, and even then I am extremely tense. And I certainly do not drive with anybody else in the car because the distraction could be fatal.
I do drive enough, however, to be annoyed by the new breed of multi-tasker, the Cell Phone Driver (joining the prestigious ranks of more ancient threats such as the Map Reading Driver and the Lipstick Applying Driver). I think I am a member of the majority here. We’ve all been cut off in traffic by a moron paying more attention to his conversation than staying in his lane. I am proud to say that at least I am not one of those people. Although not due to principle so much as inability to do anything, other than drive, while driving.
Besides cell phones, another drastic change since I was last on the road is the size of the typical vehicle. Not so long ago, we were content to drive about in cars that could only seat our immediate family. Now I am competing for road space with automobiles that rival the New York City cross-town bus in size. And was some law passed, while I was happily partaking of public transportation, that states the larger your vehicle, the fewer rules of the road apply to you? Just because you can run over my car with yours doesn’t mean you should. Although if I’m honest I have to admit I am often asking for it.
Luckily people seem to be very understanding of my learning curve, since the favored manner of pointing out my mistakes would tend to be a lot of loud, startling honking likely to result in further traffic violations on my part. Considering I am used to New Yorkers honking at you whether or not you are actually doing anything wrong, I find this town amazingly indulgent. For example, I once watched a car wait a full 15 seconds before realizing the light was green, and not one car behind her honked!
Okay, that was actually me. I was trying to figure out how to change the radio station. I wasn’t terribly successful. But on the bright side, I discovered the hazard lights which I suspect will come in pretty handy.
So since there’s a good chance I’ve cut you off or otherwise annoyed you on the road, and because it is my intention to make more friends than enemies in my new town, let me use this column to just say: sorry. I really appreciate your patience, and I won’t take it personally if you feel inclined to give me the finger. And thanks for not honking.
© 2004 Karen Bertiger
