I can’t be the only person who knows how to drive, can I? Obviously there are many people behind the wheel, but as I sat in traffic on Interstate 94 in northwest Indiana yesterday afternoon, I did some rough calculations, and discovered that—Holy Crap!—I am the only person who knows how to drive.Or so it seems.How else can I explain the hair-pullingly idiotic actions of so many people behind the wheel? Sure, there’s my trusty stand-by explanation of “People are idiots!” but, as is often the case, that seems an oversimplification. So all I’m left with is the conclusion that most people just never learned to drive in the first place.Take merging, for example. The great, all-knowing people who plan road construction projects have come up with a fool-proof system to help alleviate traffic jams. They put signs up a mile or two before a lane ends so that drivers know that the lane is ending and they can merge into the lane next to them.John Q. Idiot behind the wheel is given plenty of notice that the lane they’re in will be no more. But instead of doing the reasonable thing for the good of the whole, which is to merge into the next lane, John Q. Idiot decides to continue in his lane until he can go no further, and then merge.This is great for Mr. Idiot. He doesn’t have to wait in line, and inevitably some poor sap with a smaller sense of entitlement will let him into the open lane at the last minute. And since we’re all wrapped up in our automotive cocoons, Mr. Idiot doesn’t really have to show his face to the hundreds of other sensible, patient, for-the-good-of-the-group non-Idiots.John Q. Idiot doesn’t just live up to his name when traffic is slowed or stopped though. He’s true to form when traffic’s moving as well.I often see Mr. Idiot come up behind me in the left lane as I’m passing other cars. My willful disregard for the posted speed limit isn’t enough for Mr. Idiot. He wants to more willfully disregard it. My ten miles over the speed limit pales in comparison to his desire to drive twenty-five, or thirty miles over the speed limit.And it’s big trouble for me if I don’t immediately impede my own progress and merge behind a slower car so Mr. Idiot isn’t forced to curtail his own maniacal speed. Behold the wrath of the flashing headlights as Mr. Idiot makes his displeasure clear as he approaches a sea of cars that doesn’t immediately part.These problems are further complicated by the fact that I am not an idiot. So when John Q. Idiot does these things, I don’t give him the finger, or shout obscenities, or prevent him from merging, or slam on my brakes. Those are John Q. Idiot responses. Things like that plant the seeds of road rage. Instead, for the good of everyone on the road, I shake my head, curse under my breath, and continue on my journey.Wouldn’t it be great if we could figure out a way to tell John Q. Idiot what we thought of him?I’d love to invent a new horn. A multifunctional horn. So instead of just honking it—which I also avoid doing—and having just one sound come out, it’d be great if there were different sounds for different occasions.It could be like the hand wave, which every driver knows means “thank you.” But instead, it would have different tones, sort of like Morse code. So you push one button on your steering wheel and out come two long beeps and a chirp sound, and everyone knows that means “You’re an asshole!” Or another button lets out one long chime, one beep and a squeak and everyone knows that means “I hope you get a flat tire!”Ahh the gratification!You could do nice messages, too. A short foghorn, and a long warble would mean “I like your car.”Those wouldn’t be as much fun though.
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