I know, I know, it seems wrong for a person like me to complain about drivers, seeing as I’m the type of person who is most likely complained about. Look. The dotted lines in the street aren’t as visible as they probably should be.
But for as bad a driver as I am, there are still things that occur on my daily commute that will probably cause me to go into cardiac arrest behind the wheel. Go ahead — come to Utah and see how 99% of drivers deal with 4-way stops. Don’t even bother with 2-way stops — it’s like time stops and everyone freezes up.
Also, what’s the deal with the roundabouts?
And I’ll admit that my #1 Driving Pet Peeve has occurred in every state in which I’ve driven. It’s apparently a human being thing, except I don’t do it, which further proves my case that I might be a superhero.
So. #1 Driving Pet Peeve (I feel like there should be a drumroll here, so go ahead and create one with your hands or your feet or whatever extremity sounds most drumlike):
Driving below the speed limit in the presence of a cop.
Seriously, people. Unless you are slowing down because there is only one lane and the cop is in the middle of the street and you don’t want to hit and kill him, there’s no need to slow down to a crawl. The cop can be on the other side of the median, going a completely different direction, and the general speed limit suddenly becomes about 55 (it’s 65 here in Utah — Oregon, get the hint). If the cop is in the midst of traffic, just driving along at a perfectly reasonable pace, no lights on, no indication that he’s out to get someone, the speed limit can drop down as low as 45 or 50. You know, just in case.
And then there’s me, superhero that I am, going along rather jauntily, at the speed limit, with the cop. To date, I haven’t been pulled over for such a radical notion; sure, I’ve been pulled over for things like rolling stops/no front license plate/missing a stop sign altogether, but they generally do not mind that I drive, you know, legally.
I encountered the cop slow down this morning on my way in to the office. When the speed limit is only 30 mph, any sort of slowage feels laborious, but today’s went down to a delightful 15. For as slow and chubby as I may be, I think I can run 15 mph. (That’s a joke. I can’t run at all.)
But when you’re driving next to a cop, even though you may believe they feel your pain and are probably just as irritated as you, you can’t just speed up and illegally pass the fools. I don’t say that because that’s what I did this morning and am sadly facing the consequences. I imagined it for a brief moment, my car’s wheels extending like Inspector Gadget’s, and escaping the 50 feet or so of under speed limit driving. What can I say. I’m a little impatient.