A few weeks ago, I was travelling westbound on the upper levels highway, en route to a bit of snowshoeing with the kids.
Traffic was moving moderately well, at least at the speed limit (a minor miracle), and I joined in behind a Honda Civic that was making a pretty leisurely left-hand-lane pass of a Toyota Camry in the slow lane. I glanced in my mirror to see a fast-approaching crossover.
“Oh boy,” I thought to myself, “I betcha this guy’s going to be a jerk.”
Tingling jerk sense was then sadly vindicated.
The crossover in question, a silver Volkswagen Tiguan, changed lanes into the right-hand lane, zipped up behind the slow-moving Camry, then cut in between me and the Civic I was following. I was forced to slow to allow a safe following distance (not before issuing some aggrieved honking) and then we all continued along at our original pace, as dictated by the lead Honda Civic.
The Tiguan aggressively tailgated the Civic for a bit, but as the little Honda seemed to neither notice nor care, it was forced to keep going at the same rate of speed as the rest of us. The only outcome of the move was a gain by the VW of about three seconds worth of distance, and the brief issuing of steam from my ears.
So: jerks. They’re out there. You’ve seen them. Jerks take many forms: jerks so entitled they think taking a selfie while driving is more important than paying attention, jerks who would ram their own mother into the ditch to save a single minute of travel time, jerks who clog up the passing lane at ten kilometres an hour under the speed limit.
There is a common thread of narcissism connecting all these idiots, and it is the elevation of the self above others. To the jerk, the only thing that matters is their own little world inside that metal box. All other traffic is either a pylon to be swerved around, an obstacle in the way, or just traffic in your wake – and who cares about them?
Strangely, many jerks are people who you might meet outside of their cars and not immediately wish to punch in the face. Something about the motor vehicle tends to bring out the worst in all of us; it’s not dissimilar to the way that anonymous Internet commenters spew bile and bigotry and bad spelling, and then turn out to be your local librarian or similar.
For my specific situation, there was a simple way to deal with the jerk in question, and that was to protect my family by being alert and watching for somebody to do something dangerous and stupid. There is much to be gained, when you head out on the road, by assuming every other driver is a potential homicidal maniac and/or complete blithering idiot. Motorcylists know this. I think it might even be part of the licensing requirements for a bike.
And then, post-interaction, what do I do? Try to cut them off in retaliation? Tailgate? Flash my lights at them? All pretty useless, I’m afraid, simply escalating the situation and making it more dangerous for you.
Instead, I simply took a deep breath, slowed down to make sure there was a safe gap, and silently beseeched Cthulu and all the nameless horrors of the dimensional void to pursue this person to the ends of the earth and grind their bones to make risotto. In short, I behaved like a parent.
And here, I’m afraid, comes some bad news. The coming tide of autonomous vehicles is going to come with all sorts of benefits for nearly every driver on the road. Seniors who are at risk of losing their license and thus their mobility, will have a level of freedom restored by a self-driving car. Parents will be happy to have a car that can brake with faster reaction time than any mom or dad on the planet. Commuters will be able to escape the boredom of gridlock on the upper levels by flipping on autopilot mode and Instagramming their mid-traffic muffin snack.
It all sounds devoid of drawbacks. However, there will be an overlap period. Even if suddenly every car sold tomorrow was capable of full autonomy, it would take years for every car on the road today to be fully replaced. Insurance companies would probably bring a little pressure to bear, especially if the autonomous car can be made to perform crash-free as advertised, but the changeover of the fleet will take more than a decade. The average age of the Canadian car varies from province to province, but in most places cars are on the road for at least ten years of service.
And that means that a fully manually operated car driven by someone who’s like our me-first VW owner will be king of the road for a while. Autonomous cars will need to be programmed to react to bad drivers in much the same way I did: not by returning the aggression, but by taking care of their occupants. They’ll have to follow the letter of the law, and will be easy meat for miscreants who don’t.
The silver lining is what’s really to be hoped for with our swervin’ Mervin in the Tiguan. Any police officer, stationed on an overpass and looking out over traffic, will see the patterns of traffic and see those who disrupt them. Technology won’t save us from the jerks out there, but maybe a little karma will.
