Having a bad, day, an all too familiar feature of the human condition, may include most any-thing from “bad hair” to misplacing your keys to a nasty interaction on the job.  Not surprisingly it may also include unwelcome encounters out on the road.  Just question people if you have any doubts about this.  Here listed are some of the more disturbing circumstances drivers will likely cite:

• The realization, once you’re underway, that there’s much less gas in the tank than you imagined.
• Having one traffic light after another turn red as you approach.
• Finding the highway jammed at a point where traffic ordinarily is light.
• Discovering, once it begins raining, that your wipers are smudging, Ieaving only a Iimited area of your windshield clear enough for you to see through.
• Choosing an alternate route that turns out to be far more congested than the one you normally take.
• After selecting a toll booth, finding the automatic arm stuck in the “down” position.
• Having visibility reduced to zero when a huge sheet of water from the opposite side of the road cascades onto and engulfs your windshield.
• Cruising the same area repeatedly without finding a parking spot.
• Locating a spot and parking only to discover you’ve no change for the meter.
• Despite traveling at the speed limit’ being honked at repeatedly for “holding up” traffic.
• Being unable to swerve out of the way in time to avoid a massive pothole.
• After having failed to notice a “construction” sign, getting boxed into a lane that is closed off just ahead.
• Pulling up too close to the corner and, as a result, being unable to see whether or not a “no turn on red” sign is present.
• Daydreaming and distracted, you drive past your exit.
• Overlooking the presence of speed bumps, you fail to slow up and nearly hit the roof while passing over one.
• Mindlessly preparing to exit the car with the motor still on and the car in drive.

Enter a funeral procession and automatically you’ve become a privileged driver.  Unlikely as it may seem such a cortege confers an advantage unavailable to those merely cruising alongside, not part of the grieving group.  Watching such a procession as it passes by may not immediately suggest its exceptional; status.  Continued observations, however, soon reveal what is so special.  The remarkable fact is that the line of cars is able to proceed through one intersection after another in complete disregard of the traffic lights.  Simply by following a hearse, drivers, considered mourners now, are able to flout a cardinal rule of the road.  They may happily ignore one red signal after another, which under ordinary circumstances they would not risk doing.

What driver would not revel in such a liberating experience?  Few would deny the exhilaration of so dramatic a deviation from the dutiful.  A special procession indeed.

But not all that unique, it turns out.  In their official capacities others also are permitted to operate above the law and to disregard uncooperative traffic signals.  Watch a police car, lights flashing, siren blaring, pass through one red light after another, or a fire engine flying through the streets or an emergency vehicle of any description rushing headlong past a succession of traffic lights.  Surely intent upon their duty and determined to reach their destination, still these drivers cannot but be thrilled by their exempt status, that is their authorized ability to ignore however many traffic signals stand in their way.  Even ordinary individuals may on a rare occasion encounter a similar suspension of the rules, take delight in passing through red lights without guilt or apprehension.  Consider what occurs when a traffic signal falters and remains locked on red.  A policeman will, in all likelihood arrive to manage the traffic by means of hand signals.  He will, in short order, direct you to cross the intersection passing beneath the red glare of the traffic light.  You hesitate momentarily for it violates an instinct reinforced on a thousand other occasions.  But you follow instructions and drive right past the red light.  And the thrill is undeniable.

Remember back before the start of your grade school class when loud and unruly kids promptly turned stone silent once the teacher walked in?  Or what happened at summer camp when your counselor neared the bunkhouse after lights out?  His expected arrival sent everyone back to bed under their blankets, supposedly asleep.

Fast forward and there you are out on the highway, when out of nowhere you spot a police car in the rear view mirror.  It’s not a comforting sight.  On the contrary, you’re sure he’s targeted you.  What driver after all ever feels entirely innocent?  You’ve committed some infraction and he’s spotted it.

You are, you note, over the speed limit – but not by much.  Applying the brake is not an option – that would give you away.  Did you change lanes without signaling?  That can’t be It. Did anyone toss garbage out of the car?  Is a tail light broken?  Who knows?  Is your registration expired? How would he know that?  So why is the patrol car still there, right on your tail?

You’re on your best behavior now a model driver.  You’ve got both hands firmly locked to the steering wheel.  Your speed is down below the limit. You’ve checked – your seatbelt is on.   You’re keeping right to the middle of the right lane.  Nothing seems amiss, so why are you still so nervous?

The police car now speeds up, comes alongside.  Pretending not to notice, you look straight ahead, nonchalant and innocent like.  It passes on by and soon is well down the road.   False alarm or close call?  You’ll never know.  Gradually your pulse rate begins to slow down while your foot firmly depresses the accelerator and quickly you’re back up to speed and free to resume your normal driving habits.

How do highway officials determine where to place “Deer Crossing” markers?

When everyone is exceeding the speed limit, how do policemen decide who to stop?

When roadside signs read “Men Working,” why are men rarely at work?

Is there a gasoline price in all of the United States that does not end in 9?

Why won’t you see the celebrities or corporate sponsors at work along those stretches of road they’ve adopted?

Why is it virtually impossible to drive at 15mph in a school zone.

Why, when you’re late, do you invariably “make” all the lights?

How is it that car squeaks,, and noises grow strangely silent once you arrive at the garage?

Why when you’re waiting for a parking spot does that driver often take forever to pull out?

By how many miles can you exceed the speed limit without risk­ing a ticket?

Why are “backseat drivers” just as likely to be found in the front seat?

Why is it you’ve never spotted rocks in a “falling rock” zone?

Why do folks who don’t ordinarily pick their noses in public do so rather frequently in their cars?

Why do many women when driving cars appear so much more alluring then they are in person?

Are truck drivers who have elevated exhaust pipes really more considerate than those whose emissions emerge but a short distance from the road’s surface?

Why does having your car washed seem to result in rain soon thereafter?

Why when you glance over at another driver traveling along the road does he immediately sense you’re looking at him and stare back?

“Just follow me.”  What comforting words.  But deceptively so at times.  Sure, people mean well: they’re sincere about wanting to assist in getting you there.  But they just can’t help themselves; they find it hard to change the way they drive.

Once entering into such a pact, you’re completely at their mercy, totally dependent on them to lead the way.  No wonder you’re anxious.  Without them you are lost.  So you note the license plate and take a mental snapshot of their car.  And you tell yourself to make sure to follow close behind, not let them out of your sight.

But then without warning this guy takes off as if driving a getaway car.  You’re forced to chase after him, and to wonder what in the world he’s doing.  Whatever it is, you’ve got to make sure you don’t lose him, and that no other car gets between the two of you.  That means staying close, taking chances, and repeatedly asking yourself why you ever agreed to this arrangement.

The light up ahead is about to turn red, but he doesn’t stop.  So you’ve no choice but to run through it and hope there are no cops around.  Why couldn’t he have waited?  Soon after he’s going through another light, but this time you don’t.  And now you’re frantic.  Thank God, though, he realizes you’ve been separated and pulls over and is waiting for you down the road.  Mighty considerate of him.

In no time, however, he’s back to his old tricks — changing lanes, forgetting to signal before turning, and driving as if possessed.  Meanwhile you’ve become a nervous wreck accepting risks you’d never take just to keep him in sight.

Finally you arrive, the ordeal over.  You’re exhausted, but grateful to be alive.  He, of course, is quite pleased with himself for having been so accommodating and gotten you there.  “Now that was easy enough, wasn’t it?”  You’re tempted to differ, but decide otherwise.  “Yeah, no problem.”

Driving along you’re likely to encounter a variety of roadside signs offering information and instruction designed to help ensure safe passage. Most are clear enough and readily understood. Some, on the other hand, are a trifle baffling, leaving motorists occasionally puzzled and wondering what authorities had in mind. Some of these initial reactions; collected below, suggest why not all of these dis­plays speak for themselves.

THICKLY SETTLED:

Could we be entering Calcutta? Are swarms of people about to descend upon us?

DEER CROSSING NEXT TWO MILES:

Can deer read this sign? Have they been trained or instructed to confine themselves to this stretch of road?

FALLING ROCK ZONE:

Are we talking avalanche or an occasional chunk or two? What about their likely size and weight? Who do we sue?

LET ‘EM WORK/LET ‘EM LIVE

(Signs posted along Connecticut roads—2002)

Remember, if you hit a highway worker the repair work won’t get done. Be merciful.

NO STOPPING:

There can be no standing still in American society: to stop is to be satisfied, to settle, to compromise and not reach our fullest poten­tial. So keep on truckin’.

LOW FLYING PLANES:

What are we supposed to do? Crouch down in our seats so that these aircraft can cruise at ground level?

NO SHOULDER:

You don’t realize you miss them until they’re not there. And where, in the event of a breakdown, should we go?

BRIDGE FREEZES BEFORE ROADWAY:

Why can’t they both freeze together?  Is this sign of any value in the summer months?

SPEED ZONE AHEAD:

Are we expected to speed up or slow down?

HIGHWAY ENDS:

How can that be? We’ve not arrived at our destination?

Has your analyst ever inquired about your lane preferences when driving? She should, for your choices probably reveal as much about your personality as any other of the classic indicators. Indeed behav­ior in the driver’s seat is likely to be as rich in psychological insights as our recollections from the couch. We’re concerned here with peo­ple who, consciously or otherwise, seem to gravitate to the same lane most all the time and are uncomfortable traveling anywhere else. What does it all mean?

Let’s turn our attention first to right lane people. Close observa­tion reveals that they generally are stable individuals, are not espe­cially venturesome, remain in their lanes and are not in any particu­lar rush. Habitues of the right lane, furthermore, tend to frequent rest stops and are more likely to pull over for scenic overviews. Overall they’re older, content to drive slowly, rarely above the speed limit, and wish to avoid being pressured from behind. They resent the fact that motorists in the other two lanes constantly pass them by, but console themselves with the thought that these are “wild” drivers, practically out of control, a danger to themselves and to oth­ers. Accordingly the right lane for them represents security and rela­tive peace of mind. In the event of a problem they can, with ease, move onto the shoulder and out of harm’s way. At other times, when preparing to exit, they need but execute a simple and safe maneuver from the right lane and head off the highway. Right-lane folks are, in short, your solid citizens who rarely call attention to themselves and are content to occupy a position on the highway the majority of drivers generally prefer to avoid.

Center-lane people are certifiable middle-of-the-roaders, com­promisers unwilling to commit to either side (and occasionally pass­ing-lane veterans who, over time, have “aged out”). Speed pressures in the passing lane intimidate them, while the right lane strikes them as unacceptably slow and unduly troublesome owing to the contin­ual disruptions occasioned by entering and exiting traffic. Greater calm and continuity ordinarily prevails in the middle lane. There one also has choice and flexibility, is able to move directly to either side as opportunities develop. Middle-of-the-road folk are a valued buffer between travelers in the other two lanes, whose occupants, so different in style and temperament would be distinctly uncomfort­able driving alongside each other. Middle-of-the-roaders tend to be more social, enjoy keeping track of cars both to their left and right. These folks are the most open and tolerant, the least rigid of the three groupings and will accommodate drivers both to the left and right when they move over, as they sometimes do, to positions in the center.

The passing lane off to the left is a more exclusive section of the road, not for the risk-averse, faint of heart, or those advanced in years. Here speed limits rarely are observed. Indeed those driving at or slightly above these limits can expect to be pressured in various ways to move over. These antisocial speedsters—cool, confident, and aggressive—resent “outsiders” occupying their turf and impeding their movement. Though intended principally for passing, fast-lane drivers generally stay put, showing little interest in mingling with folk in the other two lanes. When and if they do, they remain but briefly, occupying these other lanes simply as preparation for a rapid return to the fast track. Clearly their supreme pleasure comes from aggressively outpacing the “competition” and proving, at least to themselves, that in speed there is status.

Out on the roads it’s mostly a dog-eat-dog world.  Everyone’s eager to get places and, small courtesies aside, there’s but slight concern for others.  With one major exception.

Mention it to motorists and a surprising number will tell you the same story, even admit to experiencing a rush of sympathy for their fellow drivers.

There they are cruising comfortably, traffic flowing smoothly, when they spot a tie-up underway across the road.  No big deal; highway congestion is, unfortunately, a fact of life.  But down the road cars are still backed up, moving hardly at all.  This is no ordinary snarl.  And conditions are no better a mile or two further along.  We’re talking monumental mess!

Observing from the other side you cannot but cringe at the plight of your fellow motorists sandwiched together and helpless.  Others simply avert their eyes; just looking over and seeing the endless jam-up is painful.  It’s not guilt that you feel — after all it’s happened to you and surely will again  — but you can sense the anger and frustration building up across the road.  And you know all too well that it will be some time before they begin moving again.

Even worse, a mile or two later you spot cars, obviously unaware of what lies ahead, moving unwittingly toward their fate, and you want somehow to warn them.  The untroubled faces of these drivers only add to your unease.  You’ve seen their immediate future and you want to shout out to them to turn off before it’s too late.  But you’re helpless.  You can do nothing more than drive on, fix your eyes on the road just ahead of you, and consider just how fortunate you are, at least this time around.

We drivers have little patience with traffic lights.  Unwelcome obstacles, they impede our freedom of movement.  So imagine the reaction when an overhead signal unexpectedly appeared in an area where none had been before.  That’s precisely what happened recently along a largely rural road located on the outskirts of a small hamlet.  The traffic light was introduced at the junction of two roadways, one a “main“ thoroughfare heading toward town; the other a secondary route over which only an occasional vehicle passed.  There was a reason for this:  construction was underway in and around the intersection, and therefore some measure of traffic control seemed prudent.  But there was a problem.  Whoever erected the signal and adjusted the timing mechanism inexplicably allocated considerably more green light time to vehicles coming from the far less traveled road.  As luck would have it, I frequented the main road.  And predictably, I, along with many others, repeatedly were obliged to sit and seethe along this isolated stretch waiting impatiently for the signal to change.  Meanwhile nearby, few if any vehicles arrived to take advantage of the seemingly endless green light.

Now, motorists, as I’ve noted, don’t much appreciate traffic lights, tolerating them only if they are few and far between and seem fair; that is, if they change at a reasonable interval, and allow sufficient time for cars arriving from different directions to pass on.  Any sense of favoritism or imbalance immediately raises their ire.  Obviously, what had been created here was patently unfair.  Worse, it was one that went on month after month.  Admittedly, the few times that I “made” the light were notable triumphs, but they were too infrequent to change the fundamental equation.  On several occasions I considered pulling over and pointing out the problem to nearby construction workers, but they were not easily accessible and, I suspected, would not take much interest or appreciate the gravity of the situation.

Then suddenly, unexpectedly, liberation was at hand.  The day did arrive when coming around the bend and fully anticipating the red signal, I saw a sight altogether thrilling.  The traffic light had been removed; was gone!  I could at long last continue on unimpeded.  Meanwhile, a stop sign had quite sensibly been installed along the secondary road.

A disturbing irritant had been removed from my life.  Others would, of course, take its place, but for the moment, all was well with the world.

Driving with my wife is not at all like driving by myself.  No passive passenger is she.  Rather I acquire a dedicated sign and map reader, traffic reporter and early warning system.  And while I remain the principle decision maker, I find myself subject to frequent review and persistent second-guessing.

Complicating this situation is the fact that our personalities differ.  She’s impatient, excitable, and creative.  In contrast I am calmer, more easy-going, and generally less adventurous.  Such opposites come into sharp focus when adversity hits.  Take a prolonged traffic tie up for instance.  My inclination will be to stay the course and ride it out, reasoning that the time consumed in spontaneously navigating an alternative route ordinarily will be longer than the highway delay itself.

She couldn’t disagree more.  With the traffic at a standstill and with no sign of any movement up ahead, what’s the point of standing there?  Take action, she counsels.  Better to get off at the next exit and work your way through local streets to another main road.

I’m not the least bit enthusiastic.  It could, I suggest, clear up at any moment.  Besides, neither one of us knows any alternate roads.  Then, too, lots of other impatient people are exiting, so the local streets will be clogged.  Who’s to say another route will prove faster?

But she’s dealing from strength.  The traffic is barely moving and up ahead there’s nothing but a sea of brake lights.  And why not take the initiative, separate yourself from the pack?  But then we’re not in any particular rush, I suggest, and weaving through local streets  without a clear sense of direction is not an inviting prospect.

But each passing minute weakens my resolve, especially as her sarcasm surges and her agitation mounts.  I’m just at the point of giving in.  Look, if she’s right we will escape this mess and save ourselves some time.  And if not, would that not strengthen my hand in any such future debate?  Why get trapped in an increasingly untenable position:  why defend a traffic jam?

But just as I am preparing to exit the highway, the traffic quite unaccountably starts to flow.  Sure enough we’re picking up speed and heading down the road again.  My patience has been rewarded.  However triumphant I feel, I decide it’s best to let the facts speak for themselves and avoid any “I told you so” declarations.  She, however, remains unrepentant.  No concession speech is forthcoming.  She barely acknowledges that we’re cruising again.  “We would have been there already.”  Her last word on the subject says it all.