Droning and drinking and driving

You knew this was coming, just as laws are coming to a state near you. Almost every motorist is guilty of it, even if it's just the typical "I'm on the way home. Bye." call. Some people claim "I can do it", and I'm sure some folks are better than others, but that doesn't justify you going 40 in a 60 zone.
So we innovate; look ma! No hands! We create Bluetooth devices that fit in your ear like a single wireless headphone and even built-in Bluetooth technology running through car stereo speakers and a small microphone. So you can yell at a microphone situated between the windshield and car roof, so it looks to other drivers like you're berating your rearview mirror. Some will argue that these handsfree devices are still distracting, although to a lesser degree. But it can't hurt to have both hands to operate your vehicle. Have you ever tried to drive a manual while talking on the phone? It's hard!
Droning and driving is a skill, some people have a knack for it, the same way gifted guzzlers can operate a vehicle pretty proficiently after a few too many adult bevys. And while I can certainly type up a storm on the wireless keyboard without looking down, I would never dream of texting on the open road. "I don't even have to look at the keys" a friend recently told me over appetizers, "keep your freaky dangerous skill to yourself! Do you want to get us killed?" I said. Have you ever seen someone break out a paperback or the daily paper while waiting at a light? I once saw this bearded old man consult what looked like a Dead Sea scroll while at the wheel. Another time I spied a college student banging out a first draft of his term paper on a tablet PC, but hey, at least he used his turn signal when he cut me off. And I must admit, there's nothing better than solving a five star difficulty rating sudoku puzzle whilst plowing through a tollbooth. The only thing I'm convinced no one should attempt: drunk dialing and driving - please, for the sake of humankind, don't tell your ex you love them while weaving in and out of freeway lanes.

Freeway Freelancer - On Gurad!

Channeling all the wit, maturity, writing and rhyming skill of a 3rd grader, I wrote this poem at 7 AM instead of getting ready for work. I'm starting to think gainful employment is getting in the way of my dream - this blog.

Fighting traffic
in an hour of rushing,
highway havoc!
I'm
a
fuckin'
driving
maverick!
Rush Hour with Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker
can't compare,
fucker,
to what's out there
on the North Texas freeways.
So gimme a high five,
doin' 75 on 75,
cruising under the high five,
just lucky to survive the drive!

Blacktop Blogservations

Dear Reader (there's only one of you, right?),
The schizophrenic streets of North Texas feature no shortage of commuting personalities. Sometimes they're speeding by at 80 MPH and I have to make swift mental notes and other times they're just poking along at 35 and I have plenty of time to study these species.
Let me first discuss a driving phenomena that, in my experience, only happens here: going BELOW the speed limit! Being fresh from New York's mean streets it's alarming and perhaps more dangerous than speeding, because people pull wild maneuvers around these mutant motorist.
A close relative to the speed limit underachievers is the cruise controllers. These drivers know only one speed and it usually hovers around 48 miles per hour, whether it's freeway, feeder road or residential, you can always rely on their reliability.
I know this happens everywhere, but it's definitely worth mentioning: "I go exactly the speed limit in the left-most lane and neither pass anyone, nor acknowledge that I am blowing it for EVERYONE!" It's a passing lane, not a loitering lane.
Truckers in the left lane. Again, passing lane, not a campsite. This strikes me as totally negligent and dangerous and what's worse is people tailgate the offending big rigs, yet cops see all of this and do nothing. The bigger and slower you are the further to the right you should stay.
Crotch rocket boners. You've seen 'em, 20 and 30 somethings with backpacks and high tops, who seldom wear helmets and ride sports bikes from the east. The often speed in between lanes, frequently cut cars off and even more frequently piss drivers off. To ice the moronic motorcycle cake these buffoons pop crotch rocket boners at 90 miles an hour. The salesperson should be required to perform un-reversible vasectomies on the guys buying these ricecycles.
You know how in other countries they cut off your hands for stealing? It's brilliant, bring it to the US; any time a driver causes a crash because they didn't use a turn signal, they should lose a finger, if not a hand. This is not just a Texas thing. How do you think those efficient German engineers of your VW Rabbit feel knowing that you won't even bother flicking your wrist to signal which way you're turning? A quick reminder: flick up for right and flick down for left and I won't flick you off. Thanks.
Speaking of directional signals, in DFW if you flick that signal, you better move fast. Using a turn signal here is like picking a road fight. Every jerk on the road will either speed up or slow down to hinder your proposed lane change. But I'm a firm believer in turn signal employment, so I'm adapting.
Unannounced lane changes are common on North Texas roadways, but it still comes as a surprise to me when someone will dive across 3 lanes of 60 MPH traffic into a bypass just to avoid one light. It makes me wonder if this is some kind of wild afterthought by someone who hasn't traveled this thoroughfare or if the driver is fully aware of the bypass and just likes to gamble.
Perplexingly yours,
Chuck Finn

Shotgun! Women and childen in the back.

"Say, man, have you seen my new SHOTGUN?!" We invented ingenious ways to claim the front seat and we had rules, like the car must be in sight (don't shoot till you see the bulbs of its headlights)and bellowing "BLITZ!" was the best defense to get your fat friend to sit bitch (the leprous hump of upholstery commonly known as the rear middle seat that you wouldn't want to be caught dead in). Seatbelt - if provided - optional. And let's face it, is there any point to using a lap belt without the shoulder harness, except that you would like your torso separated from your legs in an accident?
Someone should invite our friends from the south to play. An enormous F-250 work truck lumbers by me because the dope in front of me is going 7 MPH UNDER the posted limit, and I nearly hit the sap, for there are four fully grown men competing for real estate in the front seat. There is a perfectly good and roomy back seat in the truck's cab, but these dusty sweaty fellas resemble sardines squished to one side of an accommodating tin, but these sardines have mustaches.
It's machismo, or pride that prods the Mexican men to sit on each others's laps. I asked my buddy Francisco "what's up with that?" He said, "oh, it's just machismo, man. Women and children belong in the back." Sheesh. I know there's a lot of Mexican women named Rosa, but amigos, when Rosa isn't aquí, the backseat may not be quite as inviting, but it's a lot less cramped.

The first and last gas price post - I promise

Brave me. A wallet warrior, I wasn't going to let some slight petroleum price hikes spoil my summer! But with a tank of gas hovering around the $70 range and a friend in Fort Worth to visit nearly every weekend, I soon felt the pinch at the pump and had to pinch the pennies back. Gas saving gimmicks became my best friends. I tried the slow fill-up, the buy gas at some ungodly hour when the gas is denser, the hose flip trick, the don't let your tank dwindle to less than half secret, and the throw 'er into neutral to coast down a hill or to a stop at a light scheme. So which ones work and which are, pardon the pun, pipe dreams? According to my old man, the engineer there is about a half a cup of gasoline lurking in the hose after a fill-up, so if you get the previous guy's half cup and your half cup, you're 1 cup o'unleaded in the black my friend. Black gold, that is. Is dragging ass out of bed at 4 AM to indulge in denser gas worth the trip and leaving the sack? No, but if you're out at any unusual hour, especially if it's colder than during the day, you might consider giving your car a drink. I do find that shifting into neutral now and again can actually help the car accelerate or decelerate naturally, but watch your speed. You don't want to have to explain your gas saving experiment to a cop, nor do you want to risk missing the next light cycle because a bunch of jerks pass you in your quest to save some dough and the environment. Pops says putting the nozzle's auto-fill clip on the lowest setting is bogus and does nothing to improve gas mileage. Short of trading my car in for a hybrid, I'll just learn to drive less, this'll help: www.walkscore.com.

Highway to the DallasZone!

Having resided in many a big city and braved traffic of every flavor, in my experience there is no automobile hell like the hot highways of North Texas. I have my theories, we all do, do you think we could be called theorists without theories, huh? Perhaps the melting pot of motoring styles has a few too many cooks spoiling the broth, maybe it's the vastness that restricts efficient public transportation, perchance because no one carpools or slugs (look it up), mayhaps all the unlicensed drivers with unregistered vehicles, or maybe it's just me. But the treacherous adventure Texas driving presents was just too hilarious and tragic to not write about. In the spirit of my sought after yet defunct blog, the North Texas Driving Blog will from time to time feature blogservations, stories, and maybe even a driving song or two, because I've got the North Texas driving blues!