Since the car was invented at the turn of the 20th century, it has become incredibly normal for rather unskilled individuals to sit behind the wheel of a steel-clad projectile. By the 21st century those similarly unskilled individuals are also addicted to staring at an interactive piece of glass and poking at it while steering that same two-ton rhino over a curb.
These projectiles continue to get bigger, because Henry really needs a truck capable of climbing a mountain while dragging a trailer to drive to his hybrid office job three days a week, and the grocery store on Saturday.
Thanks perhaps in part to games like Need for Speed and Grand Theft Auto, or movies like The Fast and The Furious, people seem to delusionally believe they have incredible talent in operating these steel beasts. Some will abandon their minds upon entering a vehicle and drive like the devil himself is chasing them to save three minutes on their trip. Heaven forbid you left on time for Church and didn’t have to mow down three small children to arrive before the service starts.
I am by no means an F1 safety instructor, but I consider myself an adequate driver. I stay between the lines, try to stick to the speed limits, and sing along to some music rather than watching YouTube videos as I go. But driving safely is not enough on roads filled with lunatics weaving in and out of traffic like a squirrel hopped up on Adderall. One has to drive defensively.
That means being the A student in a class barely capable of wiping their noses. Paying careful attention, and reacting with lightning reflexes. With being a star student comes lecturing the poor incompetent souls around you on the correct way of doing things. You can do this with your car horn.
When encountering a clearly incompetent driver - a daily occurrence - one must firmly and quickly hold down the car horn to let said driver know their incompetence is causing immediate danger to far more impressive life forms. This has gotten me in trouble at times. In South Africa, which is infamous for road rage, I once had a man climb out of his car with a bat and wave it around after I honked at him for cutting me off. Must have forgotten how much of a hurry he was in.
In Grand Cayman - the tropical island of three-lane traffic circles - drivers hold their breath, close their eyes and roll into a circle with reckless abandon. Hoping against all odds they won’t hit anyone or anything. No use watching their turn signal, it’s just on to trick you into a false sense of security before they plough forward in the opposite direction.
Some of the worst driving a person may encounter does not come at high speeds or even around dangerous turns, it comes in bumper to bumper traffic. The worst of humanity can be found in a traffic jam, and the longer you’re in it the crazier people get. There are those who seem to believe they are more important than anybody else on the road. Their time more valuable than any of ours. They’ll happily block an entire intersection at a traffic light to ensure they make it across. They will try to zig zag their way to freedom, or push into a lineup behind another car risking life and limb. My wife has a brilliant term for these individuals - opportunistic kumquats. This term is loudly expressed in our vehicle as we tailgate the first kumquat to stop a second from squeezing in front.
With all this horrible driving on display, it is a wonder to me that people are afraid of autonomous driving. Imagine a world with no human drivers? Fewer accidents, fewer traffic jams, cars following the rules efficiently. I would happily take an overly cautious Waymo over Gary, who once reversed into a pole while picking his nose.
Those that love the thrill of driving can treat it like horseback riding today. Something controlled, on a track, maybe somewhere in the desert, while the rest of us ride from A to B safely. It’s coming, in our lifetime, and it can’t come soon enough.