Last week, I discussed adjusting to the heat in South Carolina, and today, I would like to discuss one of the other major adjustments, I have had to make. Ironically, it involves an activity that I have done more frequently in my life than any other save eating and sleeping. No. Get your mind out of the gutter. I wish. I am talking about driving.
Now, I have driven on the Merritt Parkway and the New Jersey Turnpike and even have driven into Boston and New York City on occasion, so I have seen some aggressive and confounding wheel work. I consider myself to be a competent driver and a tolerant fellow, overall. I do not necessarily love driving, but before I retired, I was commuting over 100 miles a day, so it was routine – dare I say, relaxing.
I drove into South Carolina in a blinding, driving rainstorm. Some would say it was a baptism, the advent of a new life, but little did I realize, it was an omen of harrowing things to come.
To be fair, there are certain aspects of the southern driving experience that are drastic improvements from the Northeast. Where I live, there is only one major road, Highway 17, a two-lane road that stretches from Myrtle Beach to Charleston with little traffic for miles. Nearing Myrtle, the highway splits into an express section and a business section, clearly marked with plenty of signage. My town has three major streets. It is almost impossible to get lost. In comparison, I once had a meeting on Milk Street in downtown Boston, and I ran out of street before I got to the address, because the street was literally split in half… by a building.
I also enjoy that, the slower southern pace, or the fear of the three separate law enforcement agencies that police the roads, keeps speeding and overt reckless driving to a minimum.
Okay. Here comes my pretentious, carpetbagger critique.
First, there are tons of trucks – in weight and number. I know. Trucks in the south. Water is wet. The NFL is rigged. Givens. What they don’t tell you is that their beds are almost always laden with stuff and not necessarily tied down in the most restrictive manner. In my short time, I have seen flotsam on the shoulders that I could never imagine. Inner tubes, pillows, buckets and even a car seat. Don’t worry, the child was not in it. Reference the memoir, The Glass Castle for that imagery. Secondly, the trucks make it hard to find parking spaces downtown. They are not parked perpendicular taking up two spots. That would be gauche. What they do, is block your vision on what spots are open. I slow down gleeful at finding a spot in short walking distance from my destination, but as I round the truck, there is a smaller car in the spot, or, at times, a golf cart.
Yes, golf carts. Almost every one who lives in a beachfront or gated community owns a golf cart. Not going to lie. I am a bit jealous, but they are gas powered, and owners are required to register them like cars. Therefore, they are allowed on the roads, and that means occasionally riding behind someone who is playing the back nine. I spent five years in North Granby, where following a tractor was par for the course (golf pun intended), but I thought those days were behind me.
I will be spending my Thursday entry on “taking your time,” and “slowing down your life,” and for the most part, without a set time table, I do not have any real vitriol for the carters. One of my pet peeves, however, is people who drive too slow when they have the capability of moving faster. On several occasions, I have been trapped on Highway 17 behind two cars going below the speed limit in both lanes. The right lane is for sightseeing. The left lane is for passing. There is no need for a Parchessi blockade.
I must be candid; slow drivers have irked me my entire life, and there are quick ways to spot them.
1 – If you can not see the driver’s head above the seat.
2 – If the car has more bumper stickers than wheels. I am glad you love the environment and your black lab, but keep the windows clear. And, if there is a baby on board, all I need to know is if they are driving.
3 – If the car has a bumper sticker that says, “This car climbed Mount Washington.” I see. It must be fatigued and cannot go any faster.
4 – Symbols of support. I completely respect our military and believe strongly in God, but if you are behind a car sporting the yellow ribbon AND a Jesus fish, you might as well cancel the rest of your afternoon.
I promised my readers, I would keep my entries brief, so I will sum up my last two observations as quickly as possible.
Tinted Windows
I started seeing more tinted windows in CT in the last two years I was commuting, but they abundance of tinting down here makes it pale in comparison. I understand that much it has to do with beating the heat, but if someone can’t see in, then you have a hard time seeing out. I thought it was illegal. Are you doing something nefarious behind that shadowed glass? Shade or shady?
Uncivil Civil Engineer
Although the highway provides a facile ride, the make-up of the roads themselves and the subtle differences in the rules is the last aspect I have to learn. The highway has breaks carved into the grass median, so you can turn to go the other way. The only issue is that they are not marked, so you have to go from 60 to 0, the antithesis of car power, to bend into one of these switchbacks. There are also turn lanes that just appear out of nowhere and blend into oncoming traffic. The lights are really long, and only a select few have a green left turn arrow. The rest have a sign that reads, “Yield to Oncoming Traffic on Blinking Yellow.” Yes, you read that correctly. You have to gun it to jump in front of the traffic coming the other way. If you get caught during rush hour or beach hour, you could be there for… I am writing this entire entry from the left lane in Litchfield as we speak.
Conclusion
Driving and roads are different everywhere. Any time you travel or move, you have to give yourself an adjustment period, and be patient and understanding. I am granting myself that period and showing not just patience, but grace. For all my gripes, I am the newcomer. I need to be courteous and careful. Please do the same. Stay safe.
Next Monday’s Musings: Street signs, squirrels and the power of being original AND
Please join me tomorrow in The Teachers’ Lounge
Love and laughter,
P.