I used to enjoy driving. I’d get into any one of the cars I’ve owned over the years and take to the road – enjoying the unique driving experience that each car afforded. I even enjoyed driving in L.A. for many years – because the freeways aren’t always constipated; nor are some-of-those special back roads.
But I don’t want to drive in L.A. anymore – there are just too many assholes on-the-road: I think I’ve been rear-ended once-too-many-times – I mean, only in L.A. do people accelerate into red lights or stop signs. And the bizarre L.A. phenomenon…of being completely stopped in traffic – only to accelerate to 60 mph in a half-mile span and then, to slam on the brakes yet again – is fraying this aging driver’s remaining synapses.
I won’t be leaving out the suicidal “bikers”: who weave in-and-out of traffic apparently guided by the Motorcycle God on their journey to Biker Heaven. I can’t count how many times I was just about to occupy a spot that some invisible biker suddenly occupied. And when these guys come-a-cropper – they cause traffic back-ups for hours: until the meat wagons come in to pick-up-the-road-kill. Hell! I wished for the destruction of one of these biking assholes just the other day…A semi decided to cut-me-off and forcibly moved me into the second left lane of the freeway. In my rear view – I could see a biker weaving from the far left into the second left lane…right behind me – but still plenty of distance behind me. When the S.O.B. cut in front of me – he flipped me off!? If only somebody had suddenly braked in front of him.
And bicyclists!? What the fuck are these people thinking?! Sharing the road with cars?! These people seem to dare you to knock them on their asses when they decide to leave their bike paths for-the-middle-of-the-road! I have coffee to drink; phone calls to make; and, work to get to. How the hell do they even get off work to peddle into my driving lane at eight-fucking-o’clock-in-the-morning. Why is everyone in L.A. so goddamned suicidal? Was Edgar Casey right? Are we Southern Californians former Atlanteans – just waiting to be pitched into the waiting sea one-more-time?!
Get me the fuck out from behind the wheel. Let me sit in the back seat of the car and let me talk on a cell phone and drink a good Chardonnay. This slow heart attack invention of the White Mam has got me seeing red! I’ve got Giti talked into driving me, IF, IF, IF we win the lotto. Actually, I may have done myself a huge favor by moving only a-mile-and-a-half from work. I’ve even thought of bicycling to work – but then I’d have to worry about drivers like me! I’ve also thought of getting a scooter – but I’d still have to worry about drivers like me, and, the insurance – and if the insurance is a wash with the price of gas – then shit, I may as well keep driving.
But Lord – as soon as you can get me a chauffer, I’ll be everlastingly grateful.