Rough Stone Rolling

We woke up this morning to an overcast sky, the smell of smoke and our cars covered with chunks of ash. Universal Studios was burning. The town square and clock tower from Back to the Future (also Clint Eastood’s Hang ‘Em High)– gone. The New York street, used in countless films, gone. The King Kong attraction, gone. At this writing, the fire’s still spending its last flames but is securely contained. I know it’s wrong, but on a certain level this bums me out more than the recent global disasters.

Although at bottom mysterious– like so much of human behavior, especially in the tidal matter of moods– it seems road rage is my soul’s last great colossus of corruption that needs to be overtaken. To be sure, I’ve a healthy bounty of other predators swimming my soul’s ocean, but this one’s the great white eating the Amity vacationers. This was no boating accident!!

Then it is with great joy I shout praises to the heavens: Prepare ye, the Rapture comes July 1st!

Well, almost.

I guess it’s age, but I’m becoming less and less tolerant with others on the road– or they’ve become less and less considerate– or both. Lately it seems the turn signal’s become an option rather than a law, and now cars either sort of meander or suddenly bolt from lane to lane without warning as their whims direct them. Vehicles in the adjacent lane speed up to close the gap when you signal to squeeze in. And as you’re waiting to make that left turn when the yellow light turns red, third and fourth oncoming cars sneak through the stoplight so they don’t have to wait that 60 seconds for the next one… leaving you to deal with the oncoming cars from the sides. And there are so many other me-first scenarios.

My biggest peeve, though, the one that turns me into the fist-shaking fogey I swore I’d never become, is the self-absorbed cell phone driver. I can always tell when someone in front of me is on the phone by the way they drive. They’re slower to react to the traffic dynamic around them, stunted in their road responses, semi-oblivious to neighbors’ attempts that require their full attention. The very worst are the ones on the cell while looking for a street or address. In short, they’re holy hazards, Batman.

Our beloved Governor “It Is Not a Tumor” Arnold, aware of these dillweeds, signed a bill stating that in California drivers cannot travel with hand held cell phones– They have to either use a bluetooth or car-installed hands-free device. And that law, my friends, goes into effect July 1st.

My only disappointment in the new law is its mild penalties: First offenders pay $20. Subsequent violators have to dole out $50 a pop. Chump change for the Beemer bozos. And yet, what vindication in the streets there’ll be as we faithful ones witness perps being pulled over and protesting with their pathetic feigned ignorance (yet another reason why I’m not ready for heaven– still getting pleasure from other people’s spankings). I suspect, though, it’s not going to change traffic behavior too dramatically.

Only a spike in fist-shaking fogeys yelling “You’re breaking the law!” and lots of responding fingers.