"Right Lane Racing" OR "I'm Not Taking this Element above Eighty!"

Rocky and Bullwinkle?  Anybody?

So today I was driving around in Zyvelles, my husband's car (Zyvy henceforth), and I eventually got used to different levels of pedal pressure meaning different gears instead of different and relatively linear power inputs.  Pedal a third down: same gear, kinda faster?; pedal two-thirds down: down to fourth, sudden pickup; pedal all the way down: down to third, hold on to your pants.  In Birdy it's like, you push the pedal and the car goes accordingly.  An automatic is just a mind game.  But I admit it was fun to tear past people in third randomly "AAAAH why am I going so faaaaaaast?! (pass car)"

Also I almost died, but we'll get to that later.


The main annoying driver tonight was this maroon van from Massachusetts.  Basically it went 82 (faster than me) until it passed a semi, at which point it braked to 70 MPH unfailingly and then typically went back up to 82, except for when it didn't.  Why 70?  Not really sure.  Why did they want to prolong a pass which they evidently found terrifying?  Not really sure.  WHY, did they choose to hug the right part of the lane while passing semis?  Completely clueless.  Anyway, I followed this guy for a while until this Benz tried to pass me on the right (at which point, I kept him out because I was so angry--poor decision-making on my part since I then looked like a jerk and endangered people).  I thought for a second and realized I'd rather have a more aggressive driver behind the van than I was (since he wouldn't get right for anybody), and I let the Benz and this gorgeous white Audi pass.  They had no luck getting him over until finally, it must've been ten semis later, he got over, and I sped up ridiculously to get past him.  Another dumb move.  You'd think I'd be done with stupidity by now.  But anyway.


The reason for this title was that initially, before I was right behind the van, there was this little Honda Element behind him, tailing him.  At some point the Element lost faith that the van even had a driver, and when the van started on one of its 70 MPH gigs (far away from a semi...what on earth?), the Element tried to pass on the right.  But the van was one of these folks who speeds up if you try to pass on the right, and then you get behind him again, and he doesn't get over and slows back down.  Finally the Element decided to have a race with the van, but I swear it seemed like he didn't want to go above 80.  I mean, if you're going to have a race with a Silhouette and it's already above the limit, be committed.  Finally he went all out and passed the van and left me stuck behind him.  That's the cool story.


Now for the terrifying story and another dumb move on my part.  I was in the far left lane, and to my left was one of those nice welcoming solid concrete wall barriers, and that barrier was maybe a foot or two to the left of the white line, so there was really no emergency "lane" to speak of.  More like an emergency sidewalk.  I was passing a semi, I had been in the left lane for quite a while, I thought he knew I was there, and then all of a sudden he starts coming slowly in my lane.  But it's ambiguous.  It started like, "Hey you know, this is a curve to the right and so I'm gonna accidentally track into your lane a little bit, my bad," and started to become, "You are now in my blind spot and I'm gonna act like I'm changing lanes to freak you out."  I reacted really poorly (understandably though I think).  Given that initially things seemed like an "oops mistake sorry!" I kept accelerating past him and sliding left a little to accommodate him, and then when he kept coming into my lane, I started braking (why I would do that I have no idea since I was already just a bit behind the cab), and then I gathered my wits, he got a bit back in his lane, and I shot out of there (this was one of the "why am I in third?" moments).  Also it's key to note that he didn't have his signal on at any point.  I'm not sure how I would have reacted if he had.  I departed pretty significantly from my lane, which means I maybe should have looked at the wall some, but in my experience I tend to go toward what I'm looking at...and the semi just seemed a lot more relevant at the moment anyway.


So lessons:  If a semi comes into your lane, look at where you are and determine whether it's better to slam on brakes or slam on gas.  Don't just brake out of habit because then you feel dumb later.  Also, if you're leaving your lane a little bit and you're near a dangerous wall, maybe glance at that to double-check distances.  And if you want to honk but are hesitant to because that violates highway decorum, honk, because if you gave your life for courtesy's sake that would really be a shame.  ("I died for honor!"  "I died for my country!"  "I died for courtesy!"  "...What?")

I honestly don't know what would have happened if he was really changing lanes and really didn't see me.  I think I would have run into the barrier (hopefully at a shallow angle, maybe at 60), the semi would have contacted me, and then the semi would have swerved right (good luck folks in that lane) and everyone behind us would slam on brakes and yada yada.  Although it's true that in Forza Motorsport (come on, it's supposed to be a decent simulator), if you slam into a wall at even the shallowest of angles it can send you spinning.  Which would be bad.  So let's stop the thought experiment.

Welcome letter to Zyvelles

Dear Zyvelles,

I don't know why you are named Zyvelles.  I don't think it's a good name.  But you are my husband's car, and my husband is strange (I mean really, that's why I love him), and he named you Zyvelles.

You are very burgundy.  Kind of bulgey almost.  But you have really good pick up.  I would know; my husband wouldn't accelerate as quickly as he does driving you if you didn't.  It's been interesting knowing you over the years.  It's been about three and a half years now, since we were first acquainted, and over time you have become very special to me.  I've driven you more than a few times and helped wash you and sat in you for hours on long car trips.  And now you're gonna be my temporary car until summer comes, when my husband and I will be together and I will have no volunteering obligations (so I don't have to always schlep around).  I think we'll get along well.  Especially at the gas pump.  And I think I will see better at night since you have nice headlights.  And you also have five star crash ratings across the board if I'm not mistaken, so...that's comforting.  Anyway, on the whole, you're a really really really awesome car, so much better than Birdy (OMG already over her).  We will have fun.

Welcome to the route,
Allison

A farewell letter to Birdy

Dear Birdy,

I remember first meeting you, shiny and white, pretty for a car of your years, in a Kroger parking lot. The fellow selling you had to test drive you for me since I didn't know how to drive a stick yet. I spoke with my husband briefly, with the seller standing outside the car out of earshot, and we agreed that we needed to jump on it. This was the car, with 153,000 miles, a good price, and a good badge. We didn't know anything about how to inspect used cars. We didn't know that it was obvious your clutch was going out from all the engine noise. ...But oh, what a noise that noise was. It was beautiful. You sounded like some raptor out of hell, even at 2500 RPM, and so I named you Birdy.

Learning to drive you was relatively stressful. I'd read some about stick shifting, but it wasn't the easiest thing, and you didn't have the most forgiving clutch. But once I became competent, you and I were a force to be reckoned with. I absolutely loved you, because you were so loud and so fun, and because you hadn't disappointed me yet.

Then summer came, and we discovered you didn't have air conditioning. I soldiered through, more annoyed with each degree increase in temperature. I bought little ice packs to wrap around my neck in the hopes that I wouldn't have heat stroke when I drove you for hours in 98 degree heat on the highway with the windows down and the radio up (barely audible above the wind rushing past and the raptor scream of your troubled mechanics).

Then I was driving home from Durham (about a four-hour trip), and it was raining, and I was going to my friend's graduation the next morning. All of a sudden I hear this loud SQUEEK and the car lurches. WTF was that?! SQUEEK-lurch. What? Five minutes would pass between these lurches, then three minutes, then one. Scared out of my mind, I pulled off the highway to a mechanic in Mebane (30 minutes away from Durham). Since I was in a hurry and had to get home, substantial repairs could not be made, and he patched you up with some more transmission oil (almost all of which had leaked out before I'd gotten there), and sent me home with strict instructions to drive at no more than 60 MPH. About 45 minutes away from home you started SQUEEK-lurching with renewed zest (despite my slow driving), and I pulled off at a gas station and cried and called my dad.

I'll confess I absolutely hated you then. I hated having to leave you sketchily overnight at a gas station in the rain. I hated having to replace your transmission with a dubious used one. I hated shelling out an extra $1600 when I could have used that money to buy a better car than you. I hated the way you sounded neutered and lifeless when they replaced the clutch. I still hated that you didn't have AC. You had betrayed me in multiple ways. I kept wondering how I had gotten so unlucky.

But then miles went by with no problem. About 30,000 miles, in fact. I changed your oil religiously and attempted getting your AC fixed (to no avail). I replaced your radio with a used Sentra one that actually worked. Gradually I began to trust you again. We had a positive relationship. You had precise steering, a peppy engine, good solid brakes, and a loud sound system. You were roomier than the cars I had been used to growing up, and although you had your quirks, you were on the whole a lovely car. Recently I've been getting more and more tired of you, yes, because of your age and your little troubles, and the fact that your gearshift wouldn't go into reverse unless I put it in third first, and this and that. But I was going to keep you at least until over the summer, and then give you to a family member. It was gonna be great. Driving you was still my favorite thing to do.

But now, at 180,000 miles, you're dead. It started with a misfire; I gave you new spark plugs and wires. The check engine light went on again; I fed you premium gas. Still that light stayed on. And this morning, when I got in you, you made a weird noise when you started and you couldn't accelerate over 40 MPH. You could barely move at all. Apparently the timing chain guide broke. That's at least a $500 fix, Birdy. I'm not sure I could sell you for $500. I thought you would last me. I thought that, being a Nissan, you would get me to 250,000 miles easy. But you were a terrible car, perhaps horribly abused in the past, and now you're sitting lifeless on JR's lot. We have decided to give you to my husband's family so its mechanically-inclined members can attempt a fix. I don't even know if I'll miss you. I know I'll miss the stick shift. But the rest of you? I can't be sure. I'm bitter that my husband and I are now a one-car household and that any car we can afford right now would undoubtedly be worse than you were. I'm bitter that a little piece of metal broke and now I don't have a car. I'm upset about all the wasted money and stress. I don't know how I will remember you, if it will be positively or negatively. But you will always hold a special place in my heart for being my first car, that I bought with my own money, that I cried over and drove hard and really enjoyed and eventually gave up on.

Farewell, Birdy.

Your old owner,

Allison

Potential death of Birdy

So Birdy won't go.  Birdy starts, but the clutch is acting weird, acceleration is really slow (and doesn't happen past 40 MPH), the engine heated up way faster than usual (unless the gauge is wrong), and there is a crackling sound under the hood at idle.

I've looked this up and it sounds like it could be anything from a catalytic converter (unfortunately I didn't smell the exhaust so I'm not sure) to a fuel filter.  To my transmission failing.  I feel like it might be the latter, since she acts generally okay in first and second and then like crap in third.

I really don't have the money to spend on fixing her or getting another crappy car.

____

Dear Birdy,

Please get well soon.  You were working perfectly (well..."perfectly") Monday.  I know I left the back windows down a couple inches, but I'm pretty sure that didn't cause a catastrophic mechanical failure.  I know I'll have to get you towed to have JR take a look at you, but if it's a catalytic converter honey, then I just can't pay for it.  You better not have anything really wrong with you, or I will be forced to sell you to a junkyard which will cut you up and part you out.  I was hoping to keep you in the family after we were done together.  I was hoping you would keep going past 190,000 miles (come on, you're a Nissan!).  But now that's all up in the air.

Love and best wishes,
Allison

Absurdist humor and fast police

I realized today that I laugh at things other people wouldn't.  At the entrance/exit of the parking lot at my school, there are little wooden stick gates that raise and lower, and when you exit it obviously raises automatically.  The thing is, it stretches only so far across the road and then there's a little space before the curb.  Today as I was walking back from my car I saw some guy on a motorcycle zoom past the gate in the empty space, and then a second later the gate raised (when he was already down the road).  To me it was hilarious, but the second I laughed I realized most people probably wouldn't have.

Also a police Charger passed me today.  I was in the left lane, and I looked in the mirror and saw a couple headlights far away, I looked in the mirror again a minute later, and it was ALL Charger headlights.  I freaked out and moved a lane over and this cop passed me doing 85 in a 65.  COME ON COP.

To the van who couldn't drive:  I'm gonna assume that since Finding Nemo was playing on the DVD player, you've got kids in the back.  If you value those kids, maybe stay in your lane?

To Birdy:  Happy 184000 mile birthday!  I don't know if I celebrated enough for you in the car when it happened.

To the "SERVICE ENGINE SOON" light:  No.  I won't.  I tried.  I failed.  And now I won't.  ...Please don't die.

To my odometer:  Totally didn't realize I could see past the digits on the left side.  Awesome.

To the collection of service vehicles on that one on-ramp on 85-N:  I always think you're all there because people died in a horrible collision.  Then I realize it might be road work?  I see those bright lights...or are you looking for a missing person?  I'm really confused, but I passed this setup my last trip home.

I don't think that was funny or interesting enough to end on but it's late.

Uneventful drive, but the new Civic is designed to run into pedestrians with limited consequences

I'm assuming in both situations that the pedestrian has the sense to jump.

Here is a diagram of the consequences of getting hit by a 2010 Chevy HHR:

Fig. 1

You jump into the air, crash into the windshield, bounce back in front of the car, and sustain injuries.  Here is a diagram of the consequences of getting hit by a 2010 Honda Civic:

Fig. 2

 Basically all you do is jump into the air and run over the car.  Or you can jump into the air, get bumped by the car, fall strategically onto your side, and roll over the car and then fall on the ground behind it.

So go on, folks with the latest generation Honda Civic.  Plow into pedestrians all you want.  As diagrammed above (see Fig. 2), it is totally safe.

Also as you might have guessed, nothing exciting happened on the highway yesterday evening other than the typical (folks going 65 in the left lane, folks coming up behind me and passing on the right while giving me no chance to get over, semis attempting to pass other semis and failing and getting back over, etc.).  So no good stories from that experience.  Maybe I'll think of something exciting that happened in the past and post that.

I saw a Jaguar XK in Butner, NC?

Which is a lot less exciting than the title I was going to post, which was, "I saw a freaking Aston Martin DB9 in Butner, NC," but hey they look at least a little similar.  It's an understandable mistake, right?

Anyway, cautionary tale for everyone.  There's an intersection I drive through all the time where I turn right from Duke University to Academy.  Academy is one lane on the left side of the T intersection and on the right side it's two lanes, but the second lane is made up by the merge lane to turn right from Duke University.  So when you turn right onto Academy, you go on this lovely little curved merge lane and then you can stay there because the lane is conserved.  And there's no risk of hitting anyone who's already on Academy, basically, unless they decide they have to get over into the second lane (which they don't until some ways up the street).  So it feels like a safe intersection to me, and I always take it at the full 35 or 40 since there's very little risk and it's a very slight curve.  There's not even a yield sign because there doesn't need to be.  But today, a car was stalled in the road just a little ways forward from where the merge lane becomes the second lane (so just a little ways forward from where I could even change into the left lane), and I had to change lanes really quickly or I would have run into the car.  If there had been traffic I would have had to slam on the brakes and probably would have hit them anyway.

Also I had fun driving today.  That's the thing about a stick shift, is that it makes even a crappy little Altima feel fun.

Symbolic roadway communication

On the way home last Sunday, I must have counted 3 cars with only one working headlight.  I always want to be a good Samaritan and let them know (especially since I apparently was one of those cars on Thursday), but I never know how.  I can't get behind them and bright them, because then I'm some jerk who desperately wants to pass.  I can't get in front of them and flash my brakes a few times, because that could either mean I was a drunken fool or any number of alert sorts of stuff (e.g. "Your left tail light is out," "Your trunk lid isn't shut," "Your truck balls have fallen off and are in that ditch back there").  So my question is, how can we reach other drivers to tell them important information while being polite and specific?

The obvious answer is symbolic roadway communication.  I'm inventing this right now.

We have some vocabulary in our toolbox already.  For instance, honking.  The problem with honking is that it could mean "get out of my way or I will accidentally (perhaps purposefully in some cases) kill you," "stop driving erratically, I am frightened," "I saw a cop back there, watch out," or "my car is really old and honks when there's a bump in the road."  We also have braking, which on any roadway can communicate very different things depending on its duration/frequency.  Frequent flashes of braking by the guy in front of me on the highway tell me that he is an idiot who is tailgating someone too closely.  Rare braking of less than a second or so tells me I need to let off the gas for a bit so I don't rear-end the guy in front of me, braking of a little more than a second tells me I need to apply brakes myself, and everyone braking twenty cars up tells me there will be a traffic jam.  Also, we have brighting, which to my father means telling the SUV in the oncoming lane that he shouldn't have two headlights and two fog lights, and to some people at a four-way stop it means "go already you moron, you're at the righthand side of me, therefore you go first, can't anyone in this state navigate a four-way stop?!"  (The answer is no, in most states I've experienced.  I just start pointing at people.  You got here first, you go.  You got here second, you go.  Now I'm, NOW I'M GOING DON'T CRASH INTO ME thank you.)

But my point is that none of this means "Check that left headlight of yours."

So wouldn't it be nice if we could agree that sitting behind someone and flashing your left blinker three times means "your left tail light is out," and getting in front of someone and flashing your right blinker three times means "your right headlight is out," and getting in front of someone and braking a few times in quick succession means "you really ought to get out of the left lane"?  Sure.  But what do we do if the center brake light is out?

I know today's drivers have a lot to learn already in terms of yield signs and stop signs and stoplights and speed limits and traffic circles (don't get me started about traffic circles), but I feel like if the NCDOT really put their mind to it they could teach people this "language" or something similar and then people who have nonworking lights could fix the problem before they got ticketed, or worse, crashed into.

And quickly, I realize that this is unrealistic if not unreasonable and that it might pose even more danger given that in addition to paying attention to distances and speeds and car maneuvering, people would also be telling each other things.  But it's something fun to think about.

Papa John's guy, etc.

Pretty much the only cool thing that happened today had to do with a tiny greenish car with a big Papa John's magnet on it.

It started at a gas station.  I had pulled up to a pump that (little did I know) said "OUT OF ORDER" on it, started squeegeeing my windshield, finished, opened my gas cap, pulled out my card, and...AAAH WHAT out of order?  Really?  ...Am I an idiot or what?  Fortunately the lady at the pump in front of me was just pulling away, so I scooted forward and started pumping gas.  Papa John's guy (picture him small and kind of older) comes up behind me and is about to get out and I start gesturing to get his attention.  "It's out of order," I say, as if he can hear me.  He looks really confused.  He puts his hands up, sitting inside his car--what on earth is that strange little girl trying to tell me?  So I finally start making the hand cutting the throat gesture (not sure how to describe it) and he goes into reverse and looks for the OUT OF ORDER sign and sees it.  AHA!

After a second he finds another pump, gets out, and loudly says, "Thank you!" and I'm all awkwardly long-winded like, "No no, yeah, that's fine, I pulled up there initially and got out, and I was like aaaaah" but he was a little distance down the lot by then and I wrapped up my monologue.  The verb tenses here should make you cringe.

I thought that was it between the two of us.  I wandered in and used the restroom and debated buying a soda but didn't, and then I came out of the store and he was gone.

Like an hour or two later, I happen upon him again, this time on the highway.  The speed limit is 65, everyone is doing at least 75, and my dear friend from Papa John's is going 60 in the left lane and not changing lanes.  This was awkward, because typically I would apply some pressure ("hey, you know, folks are passing you on the right but I'm gonna chill here until you get over, please get over, I am becoming sad," that sort of thing), but he was my buddy from the gas station, so I passed him slowly on the right.  I knew him!  And I was worried about him because he was older and in a tiny little old car that wouldn't have stood a chance against MY car, and he was driving dangerously but he didn't know it, and UGHHH I worried about him for a while after that.  The lesson here is that if someone is acting like an absolute moron (going under the limit in the left lane), sympathize a little and pass slowly, because they might be older, or friendly, or innocent and vulnerable, or all of those.  Or they could be seriously impaired and you should be careful anyway just for that reason.

Also, there was an interesting old red SUV I couldn't identify that was hurtling at 80 MPH toward a group of cars going 65 at about the same place in the three right lanes (on a four lane highway).  I hung back because it looked like he was just going to go straight on into one of the rears of the cars, but he finally braked, hard (and much later than I would have), and stayed at their pace until he decided he needed to go 80.  Was he drunk?  Maybe?  Was he stupid?  Well, even if his drunkenness accounted for his behavior, he's still stupid for driving drunk, so yes?

____

And a quick Birdy update:
JR put on that new valve cover gasket.  Obviously no change in performance or anything, but hopefully there's no oil leaking now.  Also, my husband and I noticed over the weekend that my front left headlight had gone out, so we swung by Advance Auto and got a bulb, and my husband put it in.  Love him!  I had had Birdy on premium to maybe help with any engine knock, so I moved her back down to midgrade with no change in driving.  She's just a little shakier than she used to be, and that seems pretty similar no matter what gas I'm putting in.

____

And randomly, I want everyone to know that all my life I have idolized Carl Sagan.  He is eloquent, brilliant, and just generally awesome.  He's been the main "person I haven't met who I idolize" for a while now.  Dad borrowed the whole set of Cosmos from the library when I was maybe 6 and we would just watch them.  Sagan's got such a mesmerizing voice, and the series has some really pretty visuals.  After that I was always a fan.

A few months ago, I was looking up heel-toe (to see if I could ever learn to do it), and I happened upon a video of Ayrton Senna heel-toeing in loafers in an NSX.  I think that summarizes him pretty well.  After looking up more stuff about him (and watching that sentimental Top Gear tribute), I've decided that Ayrton Senna is approximately at the Carl Sagan level of awesome.  I mean, I would totally become an F1 driver if A) I had any talent, B) I was filthy rich or had a buddy who was, and C) there wasn't that whole dying in crashes thing.

Nothing too exciting happened

Basically, Thursday night went pretty swimmingly.  A couple of interesting things happened.

Thing number 1:
A little ways away from where I started, I saw a fire in the median in the distance.  It was one of those medians with a metal guardrail and a good few feet of grass on either side of it, and on our side it looked like someone had literally poured gas in a wide arc curving from a point near the road to almost hit the guardrail to another point near to the road some twenty feet farther down.  Because the fire was really high around that arc, but in the middle nothing was happening.  Everyone lane-changed one lane to the right, but I doubt the DOT even knew about it since I don't think anyone would have reported it.

Thing number 2:
Of course this is in Atlanta.  You know those cars that go in and out of traffic ridiculously?  You know Smart cars?  Today, those groups of people converged in a little white Smart car that was just obviously out to be killed.  Here's a recommendation--if you buy a Smart car, drive like a 50 MPH collision is going to kill you, because chances are it will.

Also, when I pulled up to my favorite movie rental place the other night, I noticed that the window was reflecting only one headlight...  I had my husband run out and take a look, and sure enough we will be changing that bulb today.  Argh.

Burgundy newer generation Altima

Technically this isn't on a "highway" but it is on a highway as in a road, which strangely enough is how my driver's permit manual always talked about roads.  "Never go in reverse on a highway."  What nonsense, I mean how could I still maintain that minimum speed of 40 MPH?  Oh wait.

This guy was in front of me at a stoplight.  He had his left brake light out, so I brighted him a couple times and tried in vain to gesture to him, but he was too busy rifling through his center console.  In fact, he was so busy that when the light turned green, he still hadn't gone after five seconds, and I beeped so he would go.  He went, but that didn't stop him from rifling through the center console, and he kept running a little bit into the left lane (left tires over the double yellow by a couple inches, around curves, up a hill, etc).  I braked a little and stayed farther behind him than I would have, and I was watching him pretty intently to make sure he wasn't going to crash head-on into someone.  What ended up happening was that down a hill, the two lane road widened a little to accommodate our lane going straight, the other side going straight, and a left turn lane for the oncoming folks (so the left turn lane was in the middle obviously).  This Altima (still somehow going through the stuff in the console) ran over the yellow into the empty oncoming turn lane (by this time I'm braking pretty hard and looking in front of the guy, where I see a huge white industrial van coming) and then failed to correct to the point that the turn lane had ended and he was actually traveling fully in the oncoming lane, straight at the van.  I think he was maybe twenty feet from the van when he finally looked up and corrected to the right lane, but by that time I was way way back because I had predicted that these guys would be crashing pretty unavoidably.

Some lessons here:  it's probably not as important to you to find your 80's hits CD (OMG where is it??) than it is for you to stay alive.  And if it is actually that important, that's still not really being fair to the person in the huge industrial van coming straight at you, who will sustain some injuries (although not as bad as the ones you will).  Also, if you're following morons like this Altima driver, maybe stay far back.  I wish I had stayed a touch farther back, because you never really know in a collision where the forces will go and whether one or both of these really heavy objects will be knocking at your car door even if they crashed into each other and you weren't initially involved.  Lastly, and this is advice for the innocent industrial van and other nice innocent people around, you should probably be a little afraid of stupid people near hills.  Even if your driving is perfect, it doesn't mean some idiot in a new car isn't driving at you in your lane down a hill over the speed limit.

To the Altima:  I hope this is a lesson for you.  I hope you were legitimately crap-your-pants scared and that you don't do stupid things like this anymore.

To people reading:  If any of you want to comment and share your own stupid driver stories (even if you were the one being stupid), definitely feel free.  I'm interested in hearing about your experiences!

Highway safety and priorities when pulling folks over

I see the rationale for pulling folks over for speeding.  I definitely do.  At high speeds of even the (typically) legally-permitted 60 MPH, a tire blowout can be a life-or-death situation, a sideswipe can be fatal, and running off the road can lead to a rollover.  Obviously when you go even faster the consequences of these things increase as does the likelihood that any one of them will happen.  I understand that it's easier to pull folks for speeding, more reliably measurable, and more objective than for other crimes.  But still.

Why aren't we pulling people for excessive lane changes in traffic?  (See an earlier post for a not-very-eloquent complaint about this.)  Why aren't we pulling people for tailgating?  Why aren't we pulling them for texting or talking on the cell phone?  Why aren't we pulling people for passing semis on the right or for failing to signal or for obstructing the left lane?  In short, why aren't we focusing more on dangerous driving actions as opposed to speeding when it's typically these things that lead to collisions at high speed anyway?

It's true that high speeds can lead you to have a catastrophic accident (and if that's a risk you, the driver, alone in your car, alone on the road, are willing to take on, I don't really care about it), and there is unacceptable risk there in that if I am going 100 on a straight and level road where I can see everything, I can still bust a tire, lose control, and kill a driver in another lane minding their own business.  So obviously speeding should still be a concern.  I would argue though, that speeding is much less of a concern than the person who is passing slower cars on the right without first giving the slower cars time to get a lane over and let the faster one by.  If a person is going 90 (with appropriately rated tires, a non-drugged bloodstream, and a clear view of the road and everyone on it), I think that's safer than someone passing a person on the right at 70.  I'm not hardcore enough to find stats to back this up, but if anyone wants to prove me wrong or right, go for it.  No policy makers are leaning on this blog so I'm not super concerned.

In any case, my argument here is that, in addition to speeding, we should be punishing people who drive recklessly, and maybe even placing more emphasis on those individuals.  The situation as it stands is that if I go 90 (which I never have) I can expect to get a ticket pretty fast, but if I tailgate somebody really closely, or cut it close changing lanes from behind a semi to in front of someone in the fast lane, I can be fairly sure nothing will happen.  Quite honestly, the opposite should be true.

Additionally, speed limit signs should reflect the reality of the environment.  If it's 70 through one stretch and then randomly 65 through the next stretch with no discernible change to the highway's quality, direction, or traffic flow, I do not at all feel compelled to go 65 although I do dock my speed anyway.  If we had reasonable limits that didn't drop to 60 MPH in sections six lanes wide, they might (or might not) be respected a touch more than they currently are.

Again, I understand that it's pretty impossible for cops to patrol the entire length of the highway to catch seemingly isolated driving incidents such as tailgating or improper passing, but although these behaviors are more discrete than speeding (which tends to be a pretty constant behavior over the course of travel) I feel like they are going to be habits and they will eventually be detected.  Cops have cameras in their cars and often shoot video of a violation such as running a stop sign--this can be done with reckless driving.  I know I sound totalitarian (and heck, maybe a little hypocritical), but if the system were actually working right we would drive more carefully than I see.

Trip to Carmax

Quick note--due to the gentle objections of a dear friend of mine I will tone down the verbiage in this blog.  :-)  Now you know what the inside of my head is like, and I'll censor more effectively from now on.  Those of you who would like to can fill in your own choice vocabulary as you deem appropriate.

So I'm thinking of selling Birdy and getting another car.

In fact, the problem is I've been thinking about that for a long time now (read: three months after I got Birdy), without the money to actually upgrade.  But after this summer, hopefully my husband and I will both have worked full-time and have accumulated some money, and I can pick out a nice newer car that maybe doesn't have 182000 miles and maybe isn't plagued with a misfire and an oil leak.  (finger cross)  So in preparation I've been stalking Craigslist for the best deals on 2004 Civics and whatnot, and I've been trying to figure out what to do with my car.  I think at this point we've decided to give it to a family member instead of even trying to sell the beast, but before that I was at least a little curious about what Carmax thought.

I recruited one of my best friends and the two of us trekked over to Carmax in my awful vehicle.  Would they say $500?  Would they say $800?  I wasn't even hoping for $1000 given the terrible value you get for trade-ins at dealerships.  We walked in and a very pleasant lady sat us down and talked to us about what they would do with the car if they bought it, which happened to be selling it as a parts car for the same price they paid us.  Without thinking (because my BS sensor was going off), I said, "Well how do you generate a profit?" and the lady looked a little taken aback (had no one asked her this in several years working there?) and said that the buyers were charged a fee to come to the sale and that was where their money came from.  Cool.  Just curious.  Anyway, after some small talk she pulled up on the screen that the mechanical stuff checked out (wouldn't happen now), the aesthetics were all right, and the frame looked like it hadn't been damaged in a wreck, and they were going to offer me $1000 for it.  $1000?  Really?  One thing the lady was sure to tell me was that I was near a "benchmark mileage" (180000) which if I passed it, would lower the car's value.  So who knows what the thing is worth now that it's got the knock sensor out and a couple thousand more miles?  Maybe $750?

Let's all just hope she lasts me through the summer.

Superbowl Sunday

I thought that since today was Superbowl Sunday, the cops would be out in full force.  I docked my speed at lighted sections of the highway, sneered at people who passed me, and looked sharp for patrol cars.

I saw one.  One car in (quick calculation) about 400 miles of highway.  This letter is for that car.

________

Dear lonely patrol car,

I had gotten cocky.  I had started to think all of you were at home, happily watching the Superbowl, or patrolling regular roads (not highways) in search of drunk drivers.  I think I actually found one or two of those if you're interested.  But anyway, I was cruising along, 80 in a 65, and then I started to see the ticketing carnage.  First, one car with headlights on and right blinker on, hanging out on the side of the highway.  Presumably he or she was getting it together after facing you, trying to get ready to merge onto the highway again after breathing a little and looking at that ticket for...how many hundred dollars?  I was immediately on alert, and I watched out for you.  "WHERE ARE YOU?" I said in my head.  Then another car, headlights on, blinker on, but you weren't there.  I drove carefully, on the watch for you for twenty miles.  Then came the place where the 65 goes down to 55, where the markings on the road become impossible to see, and where the highway gets awkwardly curvy and goes over that bridge (would you talk to the NCDOT about that stuff by the way? that always scares the hell out of me), and then I saw you.  A little ways down the road, blue lights flashing.  Hey there baby.  I slowed to 55 and got in the left lane (since I always cut over for stopped emergency vehicles) and laughed cruelly as I passed you.  I went down the hill and got back up to 80 after it went back to 65.  I figured you were the only one out there, and you were.

Kudos to you, lonely car.  You stopped three people in a fairly short stretch of highway, and you were the only cop I saw out on the road at all tonight (other than one who had stopped at a wreck).  I wouldn't be surprised if half the DOT income from tickets comes from you, because you are a badass.  Props.

With respect,
Allison

________

Needless to say, before I found the real cop, I kind of thought everyone else was cops.  To the silver Charger without police markings, I'll make it quick:  I like that ambiguity.  Keeps me on my toes.  I think you weren't a cop but I was careful anyway.

________

To the guy in the Jetta that had metal letters spelling "ALEX" to the right/top of the rear ("JETTA" was on the left/top of the rear, so it was nice and parallel):  HI ALEX.  What made you want to spell your name on your car?  There aren't that many black Jettas you know, and you could always ID with the license plate since that's what that's for.  Although it does give me a name to call you when I'm yelling at you for going too slowly in front of me in the left lane.  GET OVER JETTA just doesn't have the same ring as ALEX YOU ASSHOLE.  Thanks for that.  Also next time, try to get the font a touch closer to that of the model name and you will really be impressing the ladies.

________

To Cristal, or the driver of the old green SUV that had "CRISTAL" in Gothic lettering on the back glass:  Are you sure you want to do 90 in a 65 and pass people on the right?  I hope your tires are rated for that speed or you will maybe die in an awful rollover accident.  Keep that in mind.  [Also, as a side note, everybody needs to keep their tires inflated well, at least to the manual specs and maybe even more.  Not only does it improve mileage but it decreases the likelihood of a blowout since the sidewalls aren't flexing so much.]

________

To the semi in the 2nd-to-leftmost lane on a six lane highway:  What the hell is wrong with you?  Go to the 2nd-to-rightmost where you belong.  In traffic like this, when you're holding things up by being in this lane, it sure would be nice if you thought of others.

________

To ALL DRIVERS, EVERYWHERE:  When I come up behind you and get close enough that you know I want you to move, and when you unreasonably don't want to, why is it that EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU drifts to the righthand side of your lane but doesn't go to the other lane?  What is that supposed to mean?  Should I look on it as courtesy, like "hey man, you know, I'd like to sit here and inconvenience you a little while longer, but once we get past the semi I'll get over (unless there's another)"?  Or should I look on it as a threat, like "don't pass me on the right DON'T DO IT I swear I will run into you"?  Or is it just this inner stupidity in all of us?  Do we want to get over but we're afraid of the white line?  Do we mean to let the person behind us pass in the third of a lane to our left?  I don't get it, guys.

________

To pickups:  Why are you NEVER pulled over?  I have seen three semis pulled over in all my time driving to and from Atlanta, but I have never seen a pickup pulled over.  Do you run from the cops?  Do the cops feel a kinship to you?  Does Dodge have a deal with the government?

________

To deer:  I am really afraid of you.  When I drive on backcountry roads rated 55, I go 40 or 45 with my brights on, desperately scanning the brush to the left and right.  I have heard all these terrible stories of accidents with deer.  I don't care about my car as much as I could, but I care about me, and deer are really heavy, and I don't want them in my driver's seat on top of me.  With their antlers.  Deer, I even had a dream about you the other night where I was fighting one of you with my bare hands.  I won.  Let that be a warning to you.

________

So I think that's it.  Upcoming this week (I think) will be an account of my visit to Carmax for an appraisal for Birdy, as well as a couple of tips for cops and a rant about highway safety.  That last one sounds really boring.  But if you don't read it you won't know JUST how boring it is.

Also my check engine light came back on, so I'm gonna take Birdy to my favorite mechanic and see what he says.  Depending on the results I may not even be going to Atlanta next weekend (don't worry darling, I will certainly try).

Letters to two cars

Dear black Nissan Sentra,

You passed me at 85 when I was going 80.  That's cool, and I got over for you, but then you proceeded to pass the semi in front of us at 70.  That's 10 MPH less than I was going and 15 less than you were, Sentra.  We got past the semi and you continued at a little over 70 MPH.  I tailed you, you didn't move, and I passed you on the right (which by the way, my Sentra friend, I don't like doing).  Later you sped past me again.  AUGHHHHH

With deep sadness,
Allison

____


Dear SUV behind the semi I was about to pass,

I've been coming up at 80.  You were traveling a little over 70, slowly gaining on the SUV.  When you cut in front of me, it was obvious you didn't intend to go any speed above a little over 70.  Did you notice before you cut in front of me that the lane behind me was empty?  That there was no one at all on the road behind either of us?  That you could have braked slightly, let me by (doing 80), and then passed the semi going 72?  And did you really have to stay in front of me while we passed other semis with ample space between them for you to slip in and let me by?  I hate you.  Thank you for getting out of my way, three semis later.

Screw you,
Allison

________________


If any of you ever act like the cars mentioned above, fix it.

Also this was a really negative post for some reason.  I met a driving buddy who was really nice and who went about the same speed as I did, so that was cool.  Also my car didn't die, which is a wonderful thing after it having a misfire (and still kind of having it).  Sorry this was kind of silly.

How to find a good mechanic

I just learned a $70 lesson, so I'm in the mood to talk about this right now.

What you DON'T want to see when you drive up and walk in:
-A sign for a chain auto repair place like Meineke or Jiffy Lube or even a dealership.  You want to see a cheap, crappy looking sign that says something like "[Name] Autos."
-A linoleum floor and cushy chairs.  Do you think they pay for that by saving you money?
-Cleanness.  You want things to be a little old, a little messy, a little scuffed, you want the walls to have some scratches and the chairs to look and feel awful.  You're not here to stay in the Hilton.  You're here to get your freaking car fixed by a capable mechanic who spends his time on cars and not on online shopping for office furniture.
 -Generally speaking, you don't want to see an asphalt lot.  Two of the three really good, trustworthy mechanics I've been to have largely dirt/gravel lots, and the third one is a gas station, so it's excluded from this criterion.
-Mechanics talking to a secretary who then talks to you.  Pardon me sir, but if you're gonna get all up in the hood of my car, you'd best be willing to speak to me.  I don't want to have to ask to talk to the mechanic; that needs to be a given, and if it's not, I don't go to that place again.

What you DO want to see/hear:
-The old mechanic.  This guy owns the place.  From my experience, he will have a southern accent and he will be very friendly and seem very concerned for your welfare.  He will obviously know much more about your car than you do, but he will speak to you as if you are a thinking human being who doesn't assume the inside of the car is a black box.  In fact, all of the mechanics will do this.  The old mechanic will tell you that you have some scalloping on your back wheels that's causing your car to shake at 60 MPH, he will explain what the hell that means, and by golly he will kneel with you down on the ground and show you on the tire where that scalloping is.  The old mechanic will maybe offer you coffee or food, or if his dogs are a few yards away behind a fence behind his shop, ask you if you'd like to go see them and give you walking directions so you don't get confused.  If you are in the middle of a drive to South Carolina and your transmission goes out, he will keep the shop open past closing to see if he and his folks can't fix you up properly since you have to leave (and because of this, he will earn oil change business from you for the rest of your time in the area).  If you need to get your car there early before work, he will let you know exactly when he's going to be in the shop after dropping his granddaughter off at school, and if you need a service his shop doesn't do he will refer you to someone who can, and someone who will be as excellent as he is.  He is a good guy and you will learn that after a couple times doing business with him.
-The other mechanics.  It doesn't matter if they have long beards, weird hair, or tattoos.  They all work under the old mechanic, who is a gentle but firm leader, and they all do their work because they want to get old like he has--owning a respectable store of his own and kindly guiding younger tattooed people.  The mechanic who is working on your car will be willing to answer even the stupidest questions, re-explain things, and will not laugh at you.  He will quietly suggest optional cleanings or replacements, and if you express that money is a constraining factor, he will tell you those things aren't anything to worry about.
-Along those same lines, if you have an old car like mine, other random things will be wrong with it than what you came in for.  You want to hear, this belt is a little worn, or that filter could probably use replacing, or a fuel system clean would improve gas mileage and it really doesn't look like it's ever been done--but you also, for these things, want to hear something like, "But that's not something you have to do right now.  Your car will get you from point A to point B without this repair."  Because the fact is, for the most part, your car will get you around, and trustworthy people will assure you of this.  Some low-class auto repair shops are manned by petty thieves who tell you that if you don't change your windshield wipers RIGHT NOW your engine will fall apart.
-You want to see a small or dirty lobby.  My favorite mechanic has no lobby.  He has car seats (full size, removed from a vehicle) sitting on the floor of his shop at the back side of it, and you can sit there and hang out while he or one of his younger mechanics does the work.  In fact, if you chance a look out the back door of the garage (which is all the building actually is other than the small office where they have a computer for estimates), you see a gigantic junkyard with all manner of old cars and old car parts just hanging out (on dirt, not asphalt, of course).  These mechanics are focused on one thing--fixing my car--and that's the way I like it.  Also, because there's not anyone behind the desk other than the mechanics themselves when they need to use the computer or print an invoice, you are always gonna be talking to your mechanic about anything related to your car.  If a hose has busted, you get shown where.  If your AC compressor clutch isn't working, your mechanic will shine a light at it under the hood and you will pretend to see what he is talking about.
-Ideally there will be at least one dog.  The favorite mechanic that I mentioned earlier has two big, lazy, oil and dust covered dogs, and while you're sitting in the car seats, they come and sit beside you and you pet them.  And by the end of the time you've been petting them, your hand has turned black.

_________

I guess in summary what I'm emphasizing is that you have to be talking to the mechanics, and they can't be shady people.  Also, my $70 lesson today--if you call a shop for a quote, and they tell you to come on in and they'll look at it for free, that doesn't mean that if you don't like their quote after they look at it that they will let you drive away for free.  It's free if the repair is done in their store.  I am a complete idiot.  I went to this shop, and I should have expected confusion, I should have expected a misunderstanding, because I didn't speak to the mechanic myself.  In fact, and this blew me away, the mechanic stood talking to another mechanic about what he was going to do with my car ("And with 181000 miles on it...I think I'll probably replace the wires too since that'll be the next thing to go out"), right in front of me, without even trying to see if I was the Altima owner and without caring whether the owner of the Altima knew about the wire decision.  When I asked to speak with him (since I was planning on driving away to my favorite mechanic, 20 miles or so away), I asked if it would make the distance, and he said, "Honestly, it'll getcha where you wanna go, but if it's been like this for a while... [breath/sigh] A misfire causes raw fuel to go out the exhaust, and it can ruin your catalytic converter, and then your repair bill is gonna be $1000 instead of a couple hundred."  OH MY GOD THE SKY IS FALLING.  I have driven this car for 30,000 miles with it twitching a little in first gear, and 20 miles more is going to destroy my catalytic converter?  No thanks, you're shady, I'm leaving.  (And that'll be $40.)  What?

Actually terrifying accident

I'm just gonna go ahead and post about this, since otherwise I would go take a nap (seems to be a theme of this blog--"Well I did a post because otherwise I would have napped"--it's like I don't even think about schoolwork).  The background of the story is that for about an hour or two there had been pretty heavy rain, so the roads were real nice and slippery, and I was chilling in the far right lane because I am almost phobic about driving in the rain, especially at night.  I'd gotten better recently (and have gotten better since) from having to drive even when it rained, and so I was going about 65, passing cars in the right lane who were going too slow, getting back in the right lane, nervously eyeing puddles, you know.  Good stuff.  Anyway, the rain had just let off maybe twenty minutes ago and I was thrilled.  The roads were still wet, so although I was now going about 75 in the far left lane, I was still watching for any spontaneous lakes that may have happened and still really monitoring the cars around me (since I don't trust anyone on wet roads).  This sets the scene for what happens next.

I slam on brakes, and so does everyone in front of me, to the right of me, and behind me.  We come to a stop.  There are flashing lights and sirens everywhere.  I'm maybe six or seven cars back from the very front people, so I can see a lot of what's going on but not all of it.  I can see the front (hood) part of the car but not the back (it's facing away from me and the cars in front of me are blocking my view).  Two ambulances are already there, as I'm looking, another ambulance comes flying down the left emergency lane, then separately and a little later, a few more police cars, one more ambulance, maybe another.  There were at least four ambulances there by the end.  The accident is in the median, which is grassy and wide with a cable separator.  All the cops and EMS folks are gathered around the lone car, which is a red pickup.  The pickup is flipped over onto its roof, and height-wise it looks about half of what it used to be.  Maybe less.  I'm already getting really freaked out.  I'm wondering how many times it rolled, how it lost control, why the hell the hood is facing northbound instead of southbound when it's on the southbound side of the median.  My slight phobia is wondering how much the rain played a role or if it was mostly the driver at fault.  I don't see any blown tires, I don't see any other people except the mass of people around the driver's side door towards the hood.  I can't see much past the front quarter panel of the car, so I can't see the door.  I can't see the driver himself.  Every once in a while one or two people will walk away from the group of people beside the car, but most of them are there steadily.  I can't see what they're doing, but I can tell from their activity that someone is stuck in the car, someone who (from the looks of the truck) is probably not doing very well.  I call my husband, I call Dad.  I tell them about all the scary stuff that is happening and I get off the phone and I continue freaking out.  I am a very weird person when it comes to stuff like this.  If I'm at a football game and one of the players, a stranger, gets injured and has to be taken off the field, my eyes are tearing up.  And here I am, indirectly watching this driver die, while I'm sitting still in comparative safety, at night, alone in the rain, with my music off to respect him.  This was one of the strongest emotions I've felt.  I was praying so hard for that driver, and thinking about how I'd just been driving in the rain, and how my car isn't the newest and doesn't have side airbags, and how that guy never even imagined when he got in his car and got on the highway that this would happen.  I kept looking at the clock.  How much time has this guy got left?  Why aren't they cutting him out of the vehicle?  I wonder if he's conscious.  After sitting like this for maybe half an hour, an ambulance drove off.  I was immediately excited, but it drove slowly, without sirens on.  The cops and EMTs dispersed a little bit from the car, and then another ambulance drove off, again without sirens.  I was thinking maybe, maybe(!) that they had gotten him out and that was where the first ambulance went.  I knew deep down that if he had been in it, alive, they would have had the sirens on.  They would have had to.  But I still hoped.  After another ten minutes or so the cops started letting some traffic by.

The first thing I saw when we all got around the cop cars blocking the lanes was to the right side of the highway, a black truck parked with a dented roof (looked like a roll impact almost).  Had the red pickup shot into the air and fallen from the sky onto the black one and then rolled into the median?  I mean how on earth was this guy involved?  Then I looked left, where I saw the red pickup truck in all its morbid, awful glory. It was about normal length, but half the height like I estimated.  The strangest thing about the truck itself was that it wasn't just those little ripply dents that occur everywhere in the car if you have a little sedan roll over once, like had happened with the roof of the black truck.  The thing looked like it had been stepped on.  I had no idea how a person could even have fit in there.  I noticed it looked like an older Dodge, but obviously the main thing I was interested in was the driver's side window.

A white piece of cloth hung over the bottom of the window (the bottom now being the top) and down over the rest of the window to the once-roof of the car.  The fellow inside was dead behind that sheet.  Probably hundreds of people had stopped stock-still for over half an hour in memoriam without even knowing it.  The ones who couldn't see anything were complaining to their spouses or listening to their music or making mental to-do lists.  They were wondering what the hell the hold up was and why the traffic wasn't moving at all.  People were saying, "Oh, this must be really bad," but not knowing how bad it really was, kids were texting, drivers were yawning, and life went on (annoyed and oblivious) as that driver fought for his life and lost.  That was what I left with.  That haunting image of that horrible white sheet, and the strange realization that the traffic jam was like a gigantic, involuntary tribute.  That any standstill traffic jam I'm in could be a tribute to a dead driver a few hundred feet up the road past what I can see.

Semis and standstill traffic

I really hate standstill traffic.  I know you do too.  But I'm guessing that you hate it less, because you are probably not one of the remnant fifty or so people driving stickshifts in the U.S.  Because everything is stop, go, stop, go, clutch in, clutch out a little? no no, clutch in...I like to get behind a semi.  They have the same problem I do, except multiply it by a million gears, a few tons, and maybe having to double clutch each time.  So they like to roll very, very slowly.  I was in standstill traffic the other day (because of a wreck, which I'll describe later), and so I got over early into the lanes that weren't blocked by the wreck and I got behind a semi (and incidentally in front of and beside a few other semis), and I thought things would be cool.  But this was not your ordinary traffic jam, and so it ended up that anytime the semi in front of me started rolling slowly, dependably, conservatively forward, it went so slowly that I couldn't even get into gear.  My clutch chatters, so I need to get my car's RPM up enough that the gear will take without freaking out.  This is all great until I'm in gear, the car is suddenly going about 5 MPH and I already need to brake hard so that I don't get a face full of tractor trailer not-so-crumple zone.  By the end of the however-long duration I'd spent behind this semi, I would just let it get forward a lot, get my car in gear for a little bit, and then stomp the brake and the clutch and sit still again.  It was unpleasant.  Even worse was the cause of the wreck.

Now I've seen at least one bad accident.  I'll probably describe it in another post (maybe later today or tomorrow).  But let's just say that in that accident, a pickup flipped, a million EMS folks were trying to get the driver out of the car, and then they weren't trying anymore.  It was terrifying, and it made me reflect on my mortality and the dangers of the road, and how the hell I would handle any situation where I flipped over or where someone flipped over in front of me.  The wreck that caused the traffic jam above, though--that was just dumb.

I flipped on the radio at exactly the right time.  Something like this:  "So, and the DOT is saying it was not a street sweeper, more like a vacuum cleaner...a cleaning vehicle was traveling on the side of the road, and a tractor trailer struck it from behind.  Folks, if you're planning to go out near Beaver Ruin Rd., you will probably want to stay clear of there until about one in the morning since there is a lot of cleanup to be done and a lot of emergency vehicles at the site.  We do have report of one injury..." and I shut off the radio.  My immediate thought was, "So a semi, crashed into a fucking vacuum cleaner, on the side of the fucking road, and here I sit."  I couldn't believe it.  How do you not see a gigantic vacuum cleaning vehicle on the side of the road?  When I drove by (finally), the cleaning vehicle was gone, and the semi (cab, trailer, and all) remained.  I felt bad.  I know semis have got to cost a lot a lot of money, and the cab was pretty crunched up, the headlights were knocked out, and there was no telling whether or not all the rubble on the road was from the semi or the cleaner.  It looked like a relatively new semi, too.  Ugh.  It was just really dumb.  Overall, I would say it was a really dumb experience.

And also, while I was behind my semi during the standstill, I noticed my car creeping up on the semi.  Maybe at one mile an hour or so.  I absolutely stood on the brake.  My car kept crawling, kept crawling, and I was about to start thinking outside the box (e-brake, ignition off, anything).  But then my sense crept in and I realized the effing semi was just rolling back slowly.  Before I could start freaking out about that, though, the rolling stopped and he drove forward again.  Good grief.

Another tidbit: after the traffic jam was cleared, everyone sped up ridiculously.  It was basically everyone going 75 in a 55 MPH zone (the assumed speed limit in or around Atlanta is LIMIT+20), with a couple people going 95.  I was going a modest 77 when I got passed by a Dekalb county cop doing 85.  You're a cop.  I know you're in Georgia, and Atlanta, Georgia at that.  But you're still a cop.

Anyway, lessons learned:  if you are a semi, watch out for vacuum cleaning vehicles on the side of the road.  If you are a vacuum cleaning vehicle, keep yourself off of the road so semis don't accidentally hit you.  If you are an Allison, and you are behind a semi, your brakes have not failed you, the driver of the semi has failed you.  If you are a cop, and you are going 85 in a 55 MPH zone, I am completely disregarding your state's speed limits from now on (aww, Georgia, like I didn't before...).