Mad Man on the Highway

Mad Man on the Highway

by Gary Resnick (Ghost-written by Ellen Resnick)

           My wife thinks I’m a mad man on the highway.  In fact, if things get too perilous, she reclines her seat, closes her eyes, and takes deep yogic breaths.  I know the thoughts that are going through her head because she used to verbalize them.  That was until she noticed that her shouting, threatening,cajoling, and pleading elicited no change in my highway behavior.  Now, she just reclines.

             Before I describe what gets her so upset and defend my actions, I want to assure you that I am a calm and rational man --not some hot-head who routinely gets out of my car at traffic lights to point my finger—or worse, a gun—at someone who had the nerve to pass me.  I’m a safe and skilled driver:  After 40 years behind the wheel, I control my moves on the road with accuracy and finesse as if the car itself is an extension of my being.   In fact, my driving skills are honed so sharply that I can safely take photographs while driving, keep my foot steady at 9 miles above the speed limit and instinctively make it through a yellow light at an intersection, even with my eyes closed. 

           Now that I’ve established my safe and responsible driving behavior, let’s return to the situation that gets me in trouble with my wife.  This is how the maddening scenario unfolds:  I’m on a highway in a 65 mph zone, driving in the left lane at 74 mph.  I quickly approach two cars side-by-side in the left and right lanes, both driving at the same pace below the speed limit.  After a few minutes trailing them, I become annoyed.  Feeling boxed in like a pawn on a chessboard with limited options, I politely flash my high beams and hope that the dazed driver will notice the glare and move the car over to the right lane where it belongs.  If the driver peers in the rear-view mirror, I quickly put on my turn signal and vigorously shake my right hand with thumb pointed in the direction he needs to move.  My wife's seat is reclined and her eyes are closed, but the anxious grinding of her teeth signal that she senses my frustration.

If the left-lane creep decides to ignore me and I’m on a two-lane highway, I’m doomed.  This is when I dream of the forklift contraption I want to invent that, at the push of a button, emerges from the front of my car, slides under the slow-poke in front of me, and gently flicks the car over to the right lane.   I’ve even come up with a name for my new car accessory, The Auto-Flicker.

Now, if it’s a three-lane highway and the left and middle lanes are blocked, I have an alternative.   I turn my wheel sharply and dart into the right lane, which is the only place to pass the two turtles.   I don’t like this option because not only is it hazardous, but it also hits my wife’s hot buttons big time.  She grips the door handle and mumbles a barely audible protest, “Oh no, not again….”  I defend my actions, explaining to her that I wouldn’t have had to swerve so abruptly if the left lane culprit had only paid attention to page 61 of the NJ Driver’s Manual that clearly states “Keep Right, Pass Left.”  After maneuvering my car into the right lane, I assess the terrain and spot my re-entry point.  I speed up to pass the cars and glare through the window, shouting friendly expletives.  This usually gets my wife going good. 

           My ravings are in the form of questions:  “Why are you in the left lane if you are the slowest car on the road?”  “What could you be thinking?”  “Are you thinking?”  “Don’t you know the driving rules?  Did you ever hear of “Keep Right, Pass Left”?  Having heard these emphatic queries many times before, my wife sticks her fingers in her ears to signal me to stop.

I don’t understand why slow drivers continually plant themselves in the left lane, the one meant to be occupied by faster, passing drivers.  I figure that they are oblivious, arrogant or just plain inconsiderate.  The oblivious left-lane driver has zoned out and is clueless that he or she has created an impasse for other cars.  The arrogant one probably feels that since he or she paid their taxes, they can damn well drive in whichever lane they please.  And the inconsiderate type doesn’t pay attention to conventional driving etiquette.  “It’s all about me getting to where I want to go; forget about the other cars on the road.”

          These drivers represent more of a safety hazard by being in the wrong lane than the long line of cars like mine trying to find ways to pass them.  So, wake up, be considerate, follow the rules and get the heck out of the left lane.  It would sure help lower my stress level and save my marriage.