There was a time when I wanted a pickup truck. This was many years ago. Back when Nissan was called Datsun in the US. Toyota and Datsun used to sell these cool little 4-cylinder pickups that ran forever, at least until they rusted away. I always thought those were cool.
Even “big” trucks back then were about the size of family sedans. They were fairly spartan, utilitarian vehicles there were mostly driven by people who had a need for one. They were work vehicles and most of them looked like they did, you know, work.
This was before the great pickup and SUV arms race of the last few decades. I still get a kick out of truck commercials, which all can be summed up as:
“My truck can beat up your truck!”
or
“Dude, if you own this truck you are so not gay.”
Today, even here in Central Ohio, the supersized pickup has become something of a fashion statement. I can’t count how many times I’ve been passed by a shiny new F250 Super Duty (or some such) all decked out like it’s ready to tow a bulldozer, hauling a load of air down I270.
But that’s not why I’m here today. It’s your money, I don’t tell people what to drive.
It’s not even the plethora of right-wing bumper stickers that these things seem to collect.
No, it’s how they drive them that’s pissing me off.
Now I will be the first to admit, I sometimes view speed limits as a starting point for negotiations. I am not, however, an aggressive driver. I keep proper following distance. I don’t weave back and forth between lanes. I don’t even really go all that fast. I tend to “run with the pack”. I like to have someone out ahead of me to find the speed traps. I will gladly let someone pass me because now they’re my “blocker”.
On this day it’s around 7:00 AM and I’m coming home from work. That puts me right into rush-hour traffic as I come up the east side of I270 from Rickenbacker Airport.
Traffic is moving right along but it’s a solid line of cars as far ahead as I can see. I don’t normally like to camp out in the left lane but I’m boxed in here. There’s nowhere to go. It’s the “Ohio Rolling Roadblock” as I sometimes call it.
That’s when I saw him. At least I assume it was a him because that’s who usually drives these things. I couldn’t see the driver anyway because he was so damn close. All I could see in my rear view mirror is a huge chrome grill and the word DODGE.
Now I know what he wants, and I’d gladly move over but there’s nowhere for me to go. Riding my bumper isn’t going to make the mile-long string of cars ahead of me go any faster. This time of morning you just can’t get there from here.
“The joke’s on you pal” I think to myself “this is my airport car. I’m not scared that you’ll hit it and make it any uglier”. Note that my airport car is a very well used 1997 Town Car. I keep it mechanically perfect but otherwise it doesn’t look like much.
Finally a hole opens up in the center lane. I’m just about to move over but apparently “Bubba” is impatient. He zips to my right, passes and then cuts in front of me. F*ck!
I don’t honk, gesture or even make eye contact. These days he might be carrying one of these:
Like I said before. I don’t tailgate. That 2-second spacing is my safety margin, not a convenient hole for you to stick your truck into.
All that work and Bubba is now maybe 20 feet ahead of me, glued to the rear bumper of the next car in the mile-long string. By my estimate he will arrive at his destination maybe 2 seconds before I do.
I watch and he repeats the same performance a couple more times. That’s a lot of effort to gain a few seconds at the other end. Hit one red light after you exit the interstate and it’s all for naught.
If this was a single instance I wouldn’t take the time to write about it. It’s happened more than once though.
You see but you do not observe. The distinction is clear.
- Sherlock Holmes
I like to observe people. One thing I’ve noticed is who usually passes me at high speed. Oddly it’s usually not the Porsche or Corvette. It’s usually one of three things:
1. A beat up 15-year-old economy car that doesn’t look like it should be able to go that fast.
2. A white van with something like “Joe’s Plumbing” on the side. Contractors always seem to be in a hurry.
3. A monster pickup truck or its SUV equivalent (Tahoe, Suburban etc).
There is something about these vehicles that seems to lend itself to aggressive driving. People seem to think “I’m invincible in this thing. Screw safety.” Actually if you look at the single vehicle crash statistics you’re far from invincible in one.
I get a chuckle when one of these things passes me on a snow-covered road. Yeah, I get it buddy, you’ve got 4-wheel drive. Actually so does my Audi, I just happen to know it doesn’t make you stop any better.
It’s when they try to use the size of their vehicle to intimidate other drivers that pisses me off.
“Golly mister , your truck is so big and powerful! Gosh we’re all scared down here!”
Meanwhile I’m thinking of upgrading my airport car. I’ve currently narrowed it down to:
1. Surplus Soviet missile transporter.
2. The “War Rig” from Mad Max.
3. Liebherr Ti 274
4. Terex Titan
I am open to other suggestions however.