New York drivers are a breed apart from all other drivers. I should know; I am one.
We are self-assured, whether we deserve to be or not.
We are always on the offensive.
Non-New York drivers are easily stymied by snow, rain, sunlight, moonlight, and let’s not forget warm or cold weather. Even the slightest of breezes can stymie a non-New York driver.
Once again, this very morning, one of them almost sent me to stymie heaven.
The most important lesson drummed into my head when learning to drive was, you must trust your co-pilots, the one on your left, on your right and your rear view.
These co-pilots, otherwise known as your car’s mirrors, can save your life.
Mirrors help you park, help you get your bearings when in reverse, help you pass a slow poke car, help you ‘feel’ the length and width of your car, help you measure parking areas, help you become ‘one’ with your car.
Last, but in no way the least, mirrors can help you spot the car of an officer of the law. Oh yeah!
What ever happened to the CB radio?
Do not misunderstand me. I am NOT advocating banning the use of the new technology designed to keep us safe. This very technology can prove very distracting. I myself never installed a GPS system. Well, then again, I am the one person on earth holding on to my flip phone for dear life.
I am one of those lucky ones, given I do possess a heightened sense of direction.
Except when I don’t.
Over the years I have developed an almost paralyzing fear of getting lost. Should this trauma befall me, I call one of my daughters or sons-in-love. With my voice crackling when I call, they recognize the crackle as “Help I’m lost and I’m beginning to sweat.” I don’t know how they do it, however, they easily direct me to where I should be going.
Let us now return to my brush with stymie heaven.
I leave home for the drive to work at my usual time. Every other day I drive to the right, down one steep hill and up another, heading for my BP station, so I can pick up my cappuccino fix. Yes, my BP station serves the best cappuccino coffee in the state – perhaps the universe. On the days I am not headed for my ‘fix,’ I turn to the left. Why left every other day? This, my friends, is a conversation for another time.
In Martin’s Landing, the community in which I reside, it seems we are always in rutting season? No, I am not referring to those nasty ruts in the road that can blow out a perfectly good tire. However, if you were a buck, you would totally be looking forward to these seasons. Don’t believe this? Google rutting season, I’m in no rush, I will be right here when you return.
Deer inhabit my community all year long. The mommy deer have a tradition of kicking their Bambi babies out of their comfy homes, as a way to show these precious little tykes they must learn to make it on their own. We see them wandering around looking for food and a safe place to call home. They hang out on my property, consuming my flowers, and on the roads, which makes driving a bit hazardous.
Thank goodness I was not in any particular rush as I drive slowly through my neighborhood, making sure I do not injure one of these Bambi babies. Suddenly, I am on alert as the driver of a rather ostentatious SUV decided its lane was not wide enough, and needed a piece of the lane I was in.
She came a hair’s breadth from catapulting me to that previously mentioned stymie heaven.
When I started breathing again, I looked up to see her speed off as if nothing ever happened. Not a word of concern, not even an acknowledgment of me or my car.
She obviously was not a New York driver, and unfortunately, never learned to trust her co-pilots. Where are those officers of the law hanging out while I have my brush with stymie heaven? I’m just sayin’!