About 10 days ago, Lori Kozey posted one of the most eloquent pieces I have ever seen in a blog. In her post, “What Would Jesus Do?” Lori postulated:
He wouldn’t blithely pilot his gas-guzzling Navigator one handed (other hand being occupied with cell handset) through unusually heavy morning traffic… bullying up from behind me after we’ve commenced the merge, not looking to be sure… Nor would he flip me off in response to my horn honking…
Lori, I’m sorry for your shitty day. Actually, I’ve had a number of them lately, and it’s the main reason I haven’t posted much of late.
But, I digress…
Having switched to daylight working hours requiring the daily lemming impersonation, I can relate. In fact, I have considered writing an anonymous blog devoted solely to this topic: I run into this sort of crap every day — and frequently twice. Sometimes even twice on the same drive…
I’m not going to say that all people in Cleveland drive like asshats, for that wouldn’t be true; I will say, however, that there are a good number of asshat drivers in the area, and it seems like most of them are out and about during the rush hour commute.
I really like the guy in the black Escalade that sweeps from the far left lane to the far right lane — and back — every morning about 8:10, usually somewhere on I-90 Westbound between Eddy Road and Martin Luther King, Jr, Boulevard (I almost wrote “Liberty Boulevard.” Sorry, my age is showing! No matter: the concept’s the same, right?).
Every morning I can count on this asshat to perfectly obstruct my field of view, almost clipping my bumper every time, long enough to almost cause me to rush blindly into the car ahead that stopped short because some other idiot did the same thing he did five cars further down the road.
See, I stay in the second lane from the right come hell or high water. It takes me where I want to go. I can stay in that lane until just after Dead Man’s Curve, where I’lll change to the left one lane to avoid East 9th Street so I can exit on West 3rd; at least I’m consistent. Get this: I leave the house every day at the same time, and I get to work within same 3 minutes every day — with damned little variation.
Yet I watch people dodge and weave in and out of traffic from lane to lane with a rapidity that would make a rabbit blush.
I’ve seen people blast to the right, right in front of me, just to see if they could get ahead in the line waiting to get around Dead Man’s Curve — only to have to settle for their original place. That is, if they could get it back. When they can’t, they stack up my lane, at a full stop, waiting for some kind soul to let them in, usually taking advantage of some poor sucker that looked away at the wrong moment.
And yet this goes on every morning in Cleveland, without fail. People just don’t want to learn; they don’t want to cooperate. They are more important than anyone else.
I’ve also seen many a senseless accident.
I remember one gal that checked her oil before going to work, only to have the hood pop up and obstruct her vision ahead. What did she do? She stopped in the middle of the highway in the heat of rush hour — like a total dork. The guy in front of me weaved out of the way at the last second, leaving me with the inevitable consequence. No way I could stop.
I swerved over just enough to allow my car to almost shave her mirror while the lady in the next lane blared her horn at me — and deservedly so — from the shoulder. I avoided the accident, but some poor schmo behind finally tagged this gal’s rear end — and not in a way that any guy would favor.
I can also remember one day, a man driving a pickup down the freeway at 80+, yelling and gesticulating wildly at his wife/girlfriend, never once looking at the traffic ahead, which had stopped for an accident. He passed me and hit a Mazda 626 at about 75, no brakes, and pushed him into a van — twice.
It was in the very next lane, to my left, and I could see the blood all over the inside of the pickup as I passed. Same with the Mazda. No seat belts used. I called the police later that morning, and faxed an accident report over to them. I remember asking the officer how the people fared, and his voice just trailed away… not good.
This reminds me: for a while, just before I got married, I used to travel south down I-271 from Route 91 in Willoughby down to Solon every day, and every day when I was driving through the spur, there was this asshat blonde chick with a beat-up, two-tone blue, Pontiac (Grand Am?), flipping the bird, pointing her finger and screaming at every car within a 100-foot radius, trying to push people out of her way.
Get this: she used to exit at Wilson Mills Road and drive right straight into — you guessed it — the Progressive Insurance parking lot!
Kinda makes you wonder where people get off, huh?
