It was one of those raw, wet, rainy nights in November – no, really, it was – up on the Interstate and I was headed from Wheeling, West Virginia to Pennsylvania and, after hours of tense, bad weather driving, I decided I needed a break. I needed to get some food, some warmth and most of all, more coffee. So, as millions do, I pulled off the highway into one of those rest stops with the ever present multi purpose facility –  diner, general store, fuel station and , of course,a  rest room.  Usually the food at these places runs slightly below average. I have been in places where the food was actually rather good but then I have also experienced what they passed off for food wouldn’t pass muster in a kennel. This one, however, seemed to be one of the better options. The place smelled good and it was, in spite of the hour, crowded. Lots of OTR drivers and an assortment of general travelers such as I , and a few who seemed to be, well, shall we say, just not used to the road or its routines. So, after the necessary depositing of the last gallon or two of coffee in its rightful place, I pulled up on to a counter seat, ordered more coffee and scanned the menu for something hot and simple.       Now, there’s a certain “reading of the room” that one does, or should do, while traveling – sort of like a poker game. There are some that you can tell right off will like to chat, some, it’s a crap shoot and then there are others who you just know that even a non committal hello would be a bad idea.  This time, the gathering seemed to be a jovial pack of long haulers and and almost instantly we began what turned out to be a  spirited discussion about driving and drivers. Remember, it was a lousy night out and I guess we were all stalling the inevitable return to the road. One of the things that gets you ” in the room” so to speak is that introduction.  Back then it was not always about names but more about “handles” – CB radio names – and when asked, I said I was the Mad Hatter – a handle bestowed upon me long ago. One or two of the drivers noted that we had  jawed several times over the years and so the whole “ratchet jaw”  cranked up and the coffee flowed. One traveler piped up ” I’m Billy Goat and we’ve chatted a lot during the late night hours”. I recalled the Goat and my numerous late night chats and thanked him for keeping me awake during those long drives on an empty road as well as the warnings about the periodic 10-33s and 38s ( accidents, and the like ).  Nice to finally meet the face with the voice. The topic on the table before I arrived evidently was all about the lunatic drivers these long haulers encounter and especially their total lack of respect for the weather conditions. So, not one to sit idly by, I grabbed the coffee and joined the chatter. There were stories about the stupid, the confused, the disrespectful and the out and out crazy. There were so many stories from these guys and gals and, considering the collective millions of miles driven, there’s no surprise there.  Just for my part, in the near half century behind the wheel, I can attest to a bunch as well.  People coming down an off ramp, throwing a U-turn over a median strip or island, moving through a parking like it’s a Bondurant obstacle course , passing you on the right on a gravel shoulder – makes one wonder.  One driver whose claim to fame was having driven “..from Manchester to Mission Bay and most in between ..” talked about the all night idiots who drive at breakneck speed for seemingly no reason only to end up in a ditch down the road having forgotten all about what just a light rain shower will do to an oil slick roadway. Of course, there were also the tales, some very very tall, from the ol’ CB chatter. Everything from strange lights in the sky to weddings – yes, even weddings. I can relate to that one, recalling a certain K-Mart parking lot, a lonesome driver and one who was scared out of his gourd after receiving a proposal, or better maybe a  dare  at the cash register. Anyhow, it was fun but that “inevitable”  mentioned above came upon us all so we cashed  out and hit the parking lot. 73s to all and  ” keep the greasy side down ” as we set off on our separate ways –  Oak Tree, Billy Goat, Blue Star, Stanley Steamer, and the others.

As I continued down the road, all that chatter brought up an observation I have often made. Didn’t want to get clinical on the folks back there at the Rest Stop but one must admit you can tell a whole lot about people by the way they drive. For instance, it’s a general rule that one needs to be , shall we say, thoughtfully aware of certain drivers based on plates. Always be wary of teens with New Jersey plates, seniors with Arizona plates and, well, just about anyone with California plates. While generalities can get one in to a box now and then and accepting a certain level of stereotyping here, more than a million miles behind the wheel have provided compelling evidence to support this theory. More than once it has also proven valuable in avoiding the body and fender shops.  Then there are those others – the ones who do things that makes you ask that ever present question – what the hell are they thinking. You’re cruising down a freeway at around seventy miles per hour and there he is – that one guy sitting  so close that you can’t even see his headlights. Now I can see on a side street in heavy traffic crawling along sometimes but on a freeway with little or no traffic and at that speed !  Then he passes you, only to pull in front and  slow down to close to the speed limit. Someone with a quite weak ego who just can’t stand not being first in line !! Bet he was a real jerk in the school lunch line !  But riding  your bumper is not just a guy thing. There are the ladies as well. You know, those who proceed down the highway as if they’re the only ones on the road, chatting away on that smart phone or finishing up that make up job which should have been done before they left the house. Then they suddenly realize your tail lights are damn near in their lap. There’s the horn, the blinking lights, the central finger salute and all that as if it were your fault. This particular animal is really dangerous and when you add the whole texting motif, it often gets fatal. So, is it because they are absorbed in their conversation, thinking that they are so doggone important  or is it because they simply have no regard for the safety of anyone else ?

There’s the topic of road rage. Tragic and true but that, for sure, is a topic for another time. There simply isn’t enough space here or anywhere except to say that these total wack jobs are out there and sadly,  one must always  be thinking about that whenever and wherever one encounters other drivers.

The highways and byways have provided folks with good times. They allow us to visit great places. We are  able to visit people at greater distances and enjoy experiences we would not have had were it not for Henry Ford and the like. The car , the truck, the van  have all played a central role in everyday lives – recreation, work, business – they’ve been a part of it all. Every driver has his or her time and his or her moments but as a driver, one cannot afford to be an idiot. That car or truck or van is not a toy and I really don’t care if you spilled coffee on that new pair of Bandolino pumps or that last box of 9mm shells was just sold, taking your inability to cope out on the highway is not only stupid, it borders on criminal.

Due diligence is critical in driving but so are manners. And remember folks, you’re not the only one out there and just because you own a $75,000 SUV , you really don’t own the road.  Of all the places we frequent, this is where rules of etiquette  are most demanded. The right of way is given, not taken.  It doesn’t take much to let the other guy have the parking space. It’s not a big deal to just shut up and let it go if someone does a stupid maneuver to take the exit ramp they almost passed. Chalk it up and move on. Really. And every once in a while, stop and lend a hand. We all need it at one time or another and we all wish someone would do it for us.

Happy Motoring