Love Driving, Hate People

by Mike Rosolio

There’s a distinct pleasure in driving, far different than anything else. I’ve never ridden a camel, but I’m pretty sure the prevailing feeling would be one of confusion. “How the hell am I not falling off this animal?” Riding a camel seems like sitting on a coffee table on top of a horse; a drunk, spitting horse that smells like Michael Vick’s basement must after a weekend of Sparks and dog violence.

But driving is great. In a way, driving is the ultimate example of humankind’s greatness. It’s two tons of refined minerals, designed by a genius, assembled by another machine that was designed by another genius. Driving itself becomes instinctual, as our ability to make a commonly repeated task ‘second nature’ allows us to accelerate and brake without having to remember to do either. It shows our staggering ability to block out danger, as people rarely drive doing calculations in their head about how far of a drop off a cliff a crash at freeway speeds would be comparable to. Finally, it is a testament to civilization that would make Sid Meier proud: millions of motorists, all agreeing to the same set of rules to maximize efficiency and minimize death. Civilization is built on a sense of ideals, assuming that all intelligent people can come together and play by a set of rules.

There’s just one flaw: people are stupid.

Turn on any radio station in America and you’ll understand. The fact that T-Pain has a career should make you scared to death to drive down the freeway. It’s by some accident of fate that he was chosen as the guy who can’t sing who gets a singing career by getting a singing machine, so what sort of shot do you have as you merge onto the freeway that the Toyota Tundra in the BunnySlope lane is going to feel courteous enough to not kill you?