I used to be dead scared
of driving to the point of being absolutely positive that I would
never ever learn it. Now a day I drive at least 5 hours a week just
to go to school, then there's the rather frequent 16 hours back and
forth to go home every other weekend and the somewhat.... alternative
sightseeing trips on the remaining weekends. And, needless to say,
I've tackled the shift stick even, cause that's how we do around
here. But now, I can't help but wonder if I was right to be scared?
Is it just me that's noticing how stupid we all get in traffic?
I'm just driving and
driving, minding my own business, when suddenly I look in the mirror,
and HOLY COW, where did I get that trailer?!
No wait! That thing is surely way out of the weight class of my poor
little Ford. On closer inspection it looks more like a lorry, only it
looks to have stuck to my bumper. Wonder what would happen if I hit
the breaks? But never mind that. I'm sure the driver must be fast
asleep, as the left lane is wide open, just waiting to be used.
Funny.
Also, when people are
trying to get onto the highway and you are suppose to be nice and not
put their life in danger and all sorts of warm and fuzzy things.
Well, some people find this a splendid time to rush ahead of you. I
mean, you've already got approximately 1567 cars between you and your
home, you wouldn’t want to make that 1568 just to spare someones
life... I totally get it! I mean, why enter in front of that nice,
but somewhat worn out Ford Focus that's made room for you, when you could
put the pedal to the metal and squeeze in between the car ahead of it
and the lorry that are way to close for comfort? I mean, he or she
could totally save at least like a split second!
A late, warm evening in
august, I was reminded of what a difficult thing it is to drive. I
had driven for a solid 7 hours that day and by now, the traffic had
almost stilled completely. I had left the shift stick in neutral,
just rolling downhill, which had left me with only one pedal to use,
the breaks. Every time I taped it, my right leg protested painfully.
This is when the most... shall we say “educational” idea struck
me: why not use my left foot? It's just hanging around idly anyway. I
feel very pleased with this idea and immediately switch feet. It's
all good, until I actually have to do something. I tap the break
again, but this time the fault is somewhere else. I tap it too hard.
Turns out my left foot is not as fine tuned, or rather it is tuned
for something else entirely: the clutch. This is quite unsettling and
when unsettled in traffic, I usually automatically floor the clutch
just in case. So I floor the clutch, except it isn’t not the
clutch, it's the break. I swear to God, the car behind me almost ran
me over even at such a low speed. So, note to self: it is of the
essence to keep the right foot on the right pedal. Driving is very
complicated, it's just that we've all forgotten. We just think that
we can do it, we don’t realize that the right foot cant do what the
left foot is doing, so how would we know if we suddenly didn’t know
anymore?
One afternoon I'm
driving home from school. I'm on the highway, and suddenly I plunge
into a thought-experiment.
What would happen if I fell asleep right now? As I'm doing 110 km/h
in 5th
gear at probably around 2500 RPM, I've got my right foot on the gas
pedal. I carefully relax the muscles. As this car has a blessedly
mellow diesel engine and requires a little intent to unsettle it's
pace once it's taken to it, the pedal sinks just barely and it
continues steadily at the same worrisome speed of 110 km/h. But then
I have another idea. I pull my heal back just a bit from the pedal,
and relax my foot again. This time it starts to accelerate. I quickly
slow back down, eyes wide with horror. I'm wide awake at this point,
despite that my brain is positively silver from all the metal fumes
I've inhaled at school that same day, but all around me, people are
going home from work, all tired and worn out, all at 110 km/h with
their foot on the gas... This is exactly the sort of situation where
you will want to remain blissfully ignorant.
