Tag Archives: driving

There Are Rules

I regularly drive an 80 kilometer/50 mile stretch of the Trans Canada Highway. This is a well-maintained four lane divided highway that twists and turns through beautiful countryside. A pleasure to drive. In theory.

The problem is that this piece of road is very well traveled. All the time. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week. 365 days a year. And there are a great many drivers who have it in their heads that the rules of the road don’t apply to them.

I don’t get it.

The speed limit on the highway is 100 km per hour (62 mph). Not 12o. Or 130. And especially not 140. But evidently it’s okay to pick your own speed, change lanes as often as possible, and tailgate other vehicles in an attempt to hurry them along. These nutso drivers make the trip kind of stressful, actually.

On my way home this afternoon, I encountered several situations where I prayed for a highway patrol car to take note of what was happening and issue a nice big fat ticket or two. No such luck. I wondered, as I was passing a semi at 110 kph (yes, I was speeding) if the truck behind me was wanting me open my trunk so he could jump in. He was certainly close enough. I tapped my brakes a couple of times to suggest that he back off. His response was to pull up even closer and make odd gestures with his fingers. I doubt that there was more than a couple of feet between our vehicles. Scary.

The purpose of this blog post was not to relate specific incidents, although I could tell you many. I really just wanted to ask this question: Since when is it okay to ignore the rules?

I think it’s indicative of our society. People seem to do what they want, when they want, and how they want. There is little regard for the consequences, particularly if those consequences do not directly affect the perpetrator, so to speak. Consideration is gone. Courtesy is rare.

Selfish.

That’s what it boils down to. People ignore the rules because they think they know better. That the rules aren’t for them. Or they won’t get caught. Whatever the reason, it’s purely selfish.

I’d better do some thinking about the rules I break.

Ouch.

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Road Tripping

We’re going on a road trip. Leaving before the crack of dawn, even. We will make the eastern trek over the great Canadian Rocky Mountains and across a considerable expanse of prairie to reach our destination. Eighteen hours in the car. Maybe nineteen if we stop for too many potty breaks.

Hello, gas station bathrooms.

Can you appreciate what this kind of driving time does to your brain cells? You’re pretty good for the first six or eight hours, but after that it’s snoring with your mouth open (hopefully not the driver, of course), laughing at practically anything, and stiffness in the posterior regions. You’ve sung through the top fifty on the oldies station providing, of course, you’re already through the mountains and have a radio signal again. You’ve discussed your life goals in detail. And you’re wondering if that really was a Sasquatch you saw over there in the trees. Good times.

Then the boredom sets in. There is silence in the car, each of us alone with our thoughts. We check the clock every fourteen minutes. We calculate, for the twelfth time, how long it will be until the agony ends. We stop caring about roaming charges and start texting, emailing and Facebooking anyone who will answer.

Ah, the road trip.

Could there be any better way to travel?

 

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