Post by wheelspinner on May 2, 2009 6:20:18 GMT -5
November, 2002
Perhaps due to its hippie, flower-child past, Californians tend to believe in psychic phenomena. Nowhere is this more in evidence than on the roads. Californian drivers communicate their intentions psychically and they expect you to be actively using your ESP to interpret the aura of their vehicle to ascertain whether they have the faintest intention of stopping at the intersection or giving way to you as you merge onto the freeway.
This is also energy-efficient, replacing battery consumption with brain waves, thereby Saving The Planet.
Greg is concerned that there may be something to this Psychic Phenomenon. His Skepticism is crumbling in the face of repeated evidence of the paranormal. The number of times he has thought "I bet that so and so is going to turn right" when the So and So is not indicating, is approaching 90% accuracy, far more than can be ascribed to chance.
Speaking of which, Californians are very good at Expressing their Creativity through the medium of dramatic Street Theatre. I have a friend who has managed to total her car ramming a deer on the freeway. Our own vehicle has been rammed from behind twice. Fortunately there is no damage, as we possess the biggest, ugliest Tow Bar in Contra Costa County. We were impressed the first time this occurred, but the second occasion we deducted points due to Lack of Originality. This is not a defect suffered by the Unnamed Parties who have left tire marks half-way up the freeway walls.
Today we have had the first serious rain since mid-May, which has led to several demonstrations of another Californian occupation, surfing. Several cars were surfing down Geary Road this morning on their way to work. Cars close to the kerb were experiencing tsunamis of several feet in height. During the rain last night, the San Raphael bridge was closed due to High Winds, and all lights went down over the Bay Bridge. This pretty much channelled all traffic from the East Bay into San Francisco into a single lane of traffic, which was still stationary at 8 am next day. By this time, it was not even necessary to mind-read to predict the movements of the car in front of you. (In fact, any attempt to mind-read the other drivers would probably have tripped the profanity circuit-breakers and blown a fuse).
Californians like to drive around with their ears glued to a cell phone. This is proof that the use of psychic communication has its physical limits, and the cell phone is needed to project inane thoughts across the ether. The California road code suggests that it might be a good idea to slow down, or maybe even stop, when speaking on a Cell Phone, advice which is (of course) Ignored. Since all freeway entrances consist of 360-degree turns taken at 45 mph while you try to merge with traffic doing 70, it becomes Somewhat Trying, when the Cell Talker in front of you slows down drastically as you speed up, since they cannot accomplish this manouvre while still exchanging beauty secrets with their girl friend.
It is mandatory to drive a BMW in this part of California, at least until you Graduate from High School. At that point you must either step up to a Mercedes or drive a red Chevy Camaro. Truly sad cases may opt for driving a Volkswagen Beetle or a Jetta; these are cheaper alternatives, if you ignore the cost of losing your Social Standing for the Rest of Your Life.
American cars are designed for the Dumb Driver. It is entirely possible to drive your car for a week and do nothing other than start it and depress the accelerator occasionally. Oh, and turn the steering wheel sometimes. Everything else is automated, right down to stereo volume increasing with the road noise, the headlights coming on and off, and the rear vision mirror moving to night mode. All cars also come with about a dozen receptacles designed to hold Starbucks coffee cups. These receptacles are mandatory; seat belts are optional.
Youthful American drivers are very generous and like to share their Taste In Music with everyone for miles around. Generally the more obnoxious and homicidal the lyrics, the better the sound system in the car and the greater the volume and fidelity for the audience. This is necessary because US radio stations cannot be heard continuously for more than about three minutes before the car drives out of range. We have yet to hear a song through to the end on the car radio. Instead we listen to CDs and play the game of Control The Volume. This is a strategy game where Beth turns the volume down on the stereo, and Greg counters by increasing it via the rocker switch on the steering wheel. The game is made more interesting by the car occasionally adjusting the volume itself, thus increasing the fun. The winner is the one who can reduce the volume to the point where the kids yell at Greg to stop singing along to the music.
Another game played in California is the Freeway Entrance Shuffle. Approach lanes to the freeway tend to be Exclusive. Three feet before you are about to enter the freeway to San Jose you will see the first sign telling you that, and you will realise you are supposed to be going to Sacramento. Simultaneously another driver will realise he needs to get onto the San Jose entrance. Your challenge is to locate this party and exchange positions with him in the three feet remaining to you. There are no winners in this game.
California law allows a driver turning right to turn through a red light. This law permits some masterful displays of Psychic Driving. California drivers are able to predict from your aura exactly how much you are prepared to slow down when they jump out in front of you. It is impressive that, once you have drastically applied your brakes, they are nearly always right.
California also fosters intersections known as 4-Way Stop Signs. This is a concept where everyone gives way to everyone else, and may well be the cause of all the gridlock. It takes a bit of getting used to, but once the technique is learned, they are easily negotiated. Since the first to arrive has right of way, you accelerate like a demon towards the intersection, desperately seeking to beat everyone else there. Touch your brakes slightly to give any watching officialdom the impression that you have stopped, and then execute your turn (using psychic indicating of course). If anyone tootles you with vigour, bask in the knowledge that you have Complied With the Law.
California Law requires drivers to give way to pedestrians. Pedestrians are very aware of this, although they are completely unaware of anything approaching road sense or an appreciation of the dangers of strolling out in the middle of the road at night, dressed in black, in the face of oncoming traffic. It is mandatory for all pedestrians to assert their legal rights at every opportunity, forcing drivers to treat them as if constantly liable to suddenly leap out in front of one. In almost a year's residence here, Greg has only seen one parent instruct her child to look before crossing the road.
Californian parents are nevertheless very proud of their children's educational excellence, and plaster their cars with "Proud Parent of an Honours Student at ..." stickers. Greg has repeatedly interrogated his children as to when he will receive such a sticker and been advised that it may happen in Geological Time. He is now in the market for a "My kid beat up your Honours Student" bumper sticker.
Californians also surround their license plates with metal covers conveying witticisms. Well, some of them are. Greg's favourite is a colleague at work, whose car reads "Mr and Mrs Damn and the Whole Damn Family". He was also impressed with the "Murder, Inc." corporate plates seen on a black Camaro parked at the Lafayette Arts Festival.
Californians who can't afford a Mercedes-Benz like to drive behemoths to ensure that they get their fair share of road for the taxes they pay. It is mandatory to have at least six tyres on the back axle and wheel arches twice as wide as the car. These cars are all in pristine condition, and have never seen a dirt road, or even rain. When we first acquired our SUV, we thought it was the biggest car we'd ever had. Now we realise that it is not big enough to accommodate a full week's shopping, a 4-bike bike rack and Greg' briefcase in the boot, so it is clearly too small.
Lately I have been looking at a GMC Suburban and thinking "Ah, that's not so big ...". I think I'm starting to acclimatise.
Perhaps due to its hippie, flower-child past, Californians tend to believe in psychic phenomena. Nowhere is this more in evidence than on the roads. Californian drivers communicate their intentions psychically and they expect you to be actively using your ESP to interpret the aura of their vehicle to ascertain whether they have the faintest intention of stopping at the intersection or giving way to you as you merge onto the freeway.
This is also energy-efficient, replacing battery consumption with brain waves, thereby Saving The Planet.
Greg is concerned that there may be something to this Psychic Phenomenon. His Skepticism is crumbling in the face of repeated evidence of the paranormal. The number of times he has thought "I bet that so and so is going to turn right" when the So and So is not indicating, is approaching 90% accuracy, far more than can be ascribed to chance.
Speaking of which, Californians are very good at Expressing their Creativity through the medium of dramatic Street Theatre. I have a friend who has managed to total her car ramming a deer on the freeway. Our own vehicle has been rammed from behind twice. Fortunately there is no damage, as we possess the biggest, ugliest Tow Bar in Contra Costa County. We were impressed the first time this occurred, but the second occasion we deducted points due to Lack of Originality. This is not a defect suffered by the Unnamed Parties who have left tire marks half-way up the freeway walls.
Today we have had the first serious rain since mid-May, which has led to several demonstrations of another Californian occupation, surfing. Several cars were surfing down Geary Road this morning on their way to work. Cars close to the kerb were experiencing tsunamis of several feet in height. During the rain last night, the San Raphael bridge was closed due to High Winds, and all lights went down over the Bay Bridge. This pretty much channelled all traffic from the East Bay into San Francisco into a single lane of traffic, which was still stationary at 8 am next day. By this time, it was not even necessary to mind-read to predict the movements of the car in front of you. (In fact, any attempt to mind-read the other drivers would probably have tripped the profanity circuit-breakers and blown a fuse).
Californians like to drive around with their ears glued to a cell phone. This is proof that the use of psychic communication has its physical limits, and the cell phone is needed to project inane thoughts across the ether. The California road code suggests that it might be a good idea to slow down, or maybe even stop, when speaking on a Cell Phone, advice which is (of course) Ignored. Since all freeway entrances consist of 360-degree turns taken at 45 mph while you try to merge with traffic doing 70, it becomes Somewhat Trying, when the Cell Talker in front of you slows down drastically as you speed up, since they cannot accomplish this manouvre while still exchanging beauty secrets with their girl friend.
It is mandatory to drive a BMW in this part of California, at least until you Graduate from High School. At that point you must either step up to a Mercedes or drive a red Chevy Camaro. Truly sad cases may opt for driving a Volkswagen Beetle or a Jetta; these are cheaper alternatives, if you ignore the cost of losing your Social Standing for the Rest of Your Life.
American cars are designed for the Dumb Driver. It is entirely possible to drive your car for a week and do nothing other than start it and depress the accelerator occasionally. Oh, and turn the steering wheel sometimes. Everything else is automated, right down to stereo volume increasing with the road noise, the headlights coming on and off, and the rear vision mirror moving to night mode. All cars also come with about a dozen receptacles designed to hold Starbucks coffee cups. These receptacles are mandatory; seat belts are optional.
Youthful American drivers are very generous and like to share their Taste In Music with everyone for miles around. Generally the more obnoxious and homicidal the lyrics, the better the sound system in the car and the greater the volume and fidelity for the audience. This is necessary because US radio stations cannot be heard continuously for more than about three minutes before the car drives out of range. We have yet to hear a song through to the end on the car radio. Instead we listen to CDs and play the game of Control The Volume. This is a strategy game where Beth turns the volume down on the stereo, and Greg counters by increasing it via the rocker switch on the steering wheel. The game is made more interesting by the car occasionally adjusting the volume itself, thus increasing the fun. The winner is the one who can reduce the volume to the point where the kids yell at Greg to stop singing along to the music.
Another game played in California is the Freeway Entrance Shuffle. Approach lanes to the freeway tend to be Exclusive. Three feet before you are about to enter the freeway to San Jose you will see the first sign telling you that, and you will realise you are supposed to be going to Sacramento. Simultaneously another driver will realise he needs to get onto the San Jose entrance. Your challenge is to locate this party and exchange positions with him in the three feet remaining to you. There are no winners in this game.
California law allows a driver turning right to turn through a red light. This law permits some masterful displays of Psychic Driving. California drivers are able to predict from your aura exactly how much you are prepared to slow down when they jump out in front of you. It is impressive that, once you have drastically applied your brakes, they are nearly always right.
California also fosters intersections known as 4-Way Stop Signs. This is a concept where everyone gives way to everyone else, and may well be the cause of all the gridlock. It takes a bit of getting used to, but once the technique is learned, they are easily negotiated. Since the first to arrive has right of way, you accelerate like a demon towards the intersection, desperately seeking to beat everyone else there. Touch your brakes slightly to give any watching officialdom the impression that you have stopped, and then execute your turn (using psychic indicating of course). If anyone tootles you with vigour, bask in the knowledge that you have Complied With the Law.
California Law requires drivers to give way to pedestrians. Pedestrians are very aware of this, although they are completely unaware of anything approaching road sense or an appreciation of the dangers of strolling out in the middle of the road at night, dressed in black, in the face of oncoming traffic. It is mandatory for all pedestrians to assert their legal rights at every opportunity, forcing drivers to treat them as if constantly liable to suddenly leap out in front of one. In almost a year's residence here, Greg has only seen one parent instruct her child to look before crossing the road.
Californian parents are nevertheless very proud of their children's educational excellence, and plaster their cars with "Proud Parent of an Honours Student at ..." stickers. Greg has repeatedly interrogated his children as to when he will receive such a sticker and been advised that it may happen in Geological Time. He is now in the market for a "My kid beat up your Honours Student" bumper sticker.
Californians also surround their license plates with metal covers conveying witticisms. Well, some of them are. Greg's favourite is a colleague at work, whose car reads "Mr and Mrs Damn and the Whole Damn Family". He was also impressed with the "Murder, Inc." corporate plates seen on a black Camaro parked at the Lafayette Arts Festival.
Californians who can't afford a Mercedes-Benz like to drive behemoths to ensure that they get their fair share of road for the taxes they pay. It is mandatory to have at least six tyres on the back axle and wheel arches twice as wide as the car. These cars are all in pristine condition, and have never seen a dirt road, or even rain. When we first acquired our SUV, we thought it was the biggest car we'd ever had. Now we realise that it is not big enough to accommodate a full week's shopping, a 4-bike bike rack and Greg' briefcase in the boot, so it is clearly too small.
Lately I have been looking at a GMC Suburban and thinking "Ah, that's not so big ...". I think I'm starting to acclimatise.
