Rubbernecking And The Side Effects Of Uncontrolled Rage
For a few years now I have managed to train myself to exercise peace and tranquility in my driving through traffic. Someone riding up on my ass? Move over and let them through..."old me" would've sat there and initiated confrontation (for whatever reasons) by boxing them in and driving slower than all hell. A minivan dragging their feet in the #1 lane? Slow down, move over and go around. The philosophy has managed to keep me out of trouble and avoid those highly confrontational (and actually quite dangerous) situations that I used to find myself in during my previous life as an idiotic road-rage-filled driver.
But for some reason that I still can't quite explain, I found myself smack dab in the middle of road rage (and paid the price)...
This past Sunday night was quite enjoyable, celebrating a holiday dinner with the LIKHA family at the Grand Oaks Grill & Bar in Oakland, a place that had somewhat decent pork ribs (definitely pass on the roast beef, but go for the BBQ pork). Calling it an early night at 8PM (work beckons!) I found myself rolling down the 880 southbound on the usual route home from Oakland. A few miles before the San Mateo bridge, the sight of flashing red lights caught my eye... hmm, an ambulance decided to hop on freeway; I wonder where he's going? I'll keep my distance...
The alarm bells didn't quite register as the ambulance in front of me took the same exit I took -- 92W San Mateo Bridge. I took interest watching the emergency vehicle breeze through the toll plaza while I prepared my three dollars. It's been a good drive so far, not too much traffic and no rain. A good drive, that is, until a sea of red brake lights filled my vision.
Oh oh.
The alarm bells were sounding off now.
Looking ahead, I noticed traffic was absolutely NOT moving. And Shirley noticed emergency vehicles on both the left & right side of the freeway about a quarter mile ahead. Hm...might as well kill the lights and shut off the car. Fifteen minutes passed and so I decided to enjoy probably the only moments I'll ever have walking on the #2 lane of a 65 mph freeway sitting 10 feet above the cold and murky San Francisco Bay.
But for some reason that I still can't quite explain, I found myself smack dab in the middle of road rage (and paid the price)...
This past Sunday night was quite enjoyable, celebrating a holiday dinner with the LIKHA family at the Grand Oaks Grill & Bar in Oakland, a place that had somewhat decent pork ribs (definitely pass on the roast beef, but go for the BBQ pork). Calling it an early night at 8PM (work beckons!) I found myself rolling down the 880 southbound on the usual route home from Oakland. A few miles before the San Mateo bridge, the sight of flashing red lights caught my eye... hmm, an ambulance decided to hop on freeway; I wonder where he's going? I'll keep my distance...
The alarm bells didn't quite register as the ambulance in front of me took the same exit I took -- 92W San Mateo Bridge. I took interest watching the emergency vehicle breeze through the toll plaza while I prepared my three dollars. It's been a good drive so far, not too much traffic and no rain. A good drive, that is, until a sea of red brake lights filled my vision.
Oh oh.
The alarm bells were sounding off now.
Looking ahead, I noticed traffic was absolutely NOT moving. And Shirley noticed emergency vehicles on both the left & right side of the freeway about a quarter mile ahead. Hm...might as well kill the lights and shut off the car. Fifteen minutes passed and so I decided to enjoy probably the only moments I'll ever have walking on the #2 lane of a 65 mph freeway sitting 10 feet above the cold and murky San Francisco Bay.
Twenty minutes later and two lanes were reopened. So we hopped in the car and got rolling again. Just five minutes away from home. Or so I thought...
Traffic accidents provide curious insight into human nature. I think it's the same motivation that attracts people to Rated R films: "I'm going to see some blood and guts!" Whatever it is, it's infuriating. Drive on, people. And no one seems to grasp the concept that the very fact they are looking at the accident is what's at the root cause of traffic jams! Like the minivan driver in front of me. Crawling along in the #1 lane at (I kid you not) 2 miles per hour. Nevermind the fact that the accident was over on the right shoulder and that all the cars in front of him/her had already accelerated miles ahead of us...no, the car just creeped on by. For an eternity. And I'll never quite understand what the exact chemical reactions are that get triggered in that part of my brain in the span of about 10 milliseconds, but something snapped. All emotion took control and I found myself in the emergency lane, passing the retarded minivan.
Yes, it's illegal.
And yes, we were passing an accident that had lots of highway patrol cars there.
Hey, it's road rage. Throw logic out the window.
Soon enough, my rear view mirror filled with the sight of a quickly approaching late model Ford Crown Victoria. With pretty flashing lights. Needless to say, the night ended with me facing the prospect of spending eight hours of a Saturday listening to someone lecture me about drunk driving, how speed kills, and (I'm sure) the ill effects of road rage. I just wish they would teach people about the real damage that rubbernecking causes.
posted by VirtualErn @ 12:33 AM
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2 Comments:
Cracker please.... You have nothing on some of our other friends. We know someone that would have ram'd the mini-van. How bad was the ticket?
-Jamie
But I'm Mr. John-Q-Public-Abide-By-The-Rules!! :)
Dunno yet regarding the fine, I gotta call the court. I'm guessing the typical 200 smackers or so. Damnit...that buys me 3 tanks of gas.
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