New Jersey Drivers avoid Poop
Crooked Views
By Joseph Anthony
These Blogs are “my truths!” I stake no logistical claims, nor research to support my opinions and experiences.
Do you know who never steps in dog poop? DOGS! Such is true for the reckless and selfish driver. Seldom (in my observed opinion) are they the victims of their own demise. This was true for me anyway, on January 3, 2018, at around 10:30 pm. Having had an avalanche of stressful events happen, in just three short days of a new year, I threw in the towel and resigned to go out and buy a cigar. Traveling at 30 MPH (the speed limit), on a winding road, a little over a mile from my house, I witnessed the headlights of the other car, banking a turn, at an enormously high speed. In the next instance, he lost control and was flying at me, sideways. T-boning was inevitable, and I should not be here today, typing this story.
This article is not about my car accident, per se (nor Poop — that is an SEO thing). That is an interesting story though, that started a huge ripple effect in my life, and one day I will share it. It is more about the guilty party, standing on the lawn, outside of me in my wreck, unscathed and making excuses aloud, for his obviously horrific choices that evening. The speeding, tailgating, quick lane changing driver, always think that everyone else is driving incorrectly! In New Jersey, I have learned (now that I am a 20-year resident), that it is an imaginary badge of honor and they are enormously proud of it. It is literally a bragging right, that I find to be, so very ignorant and egotistical. Why should some Mom and Dad, taking their kids out for the day, or ANYONE for that matter, have to deal with someone’s lack of understanding Physics 101, or their fifteen stupid justifications for it?
Was I a Baby Man once (circa 18–21 years of age)? Taking chances, proving my masculinity, and exercising my knowledge of a privilege, that I knew nothing about? Of course, but lest I am not giving this younger generation a pass, I am, more specifically, pointing the finger at my contemporaries. Not to award “the kids”, a Get Out of Jail Free card, but my peers (Gen X) were one hundred times more dangerous, given our very used, 1978 Oldsmobile tanks, and the lack of cell phones to keep us occupied! In my early twenties, while venting to a middle-aged neighbor one day, about slow drivers, as if they were in the wrong, he basically said, “so what … you arrive five minutes sooner?” It made complete sense and sparked a slightly new perspective in a cocky young man.
Is it TV shows about the Deep South, the Car Dealers overselling vehicle features, or plain old self-entitlement, that makes men in Pickup trucks drive recklessly hurried, and women in SUVs, think that they are in some impervious to disaster, outer space vehicle? If you do not fit the descriptions, then DO NOT, get your proverbial, panties in a bunch. If you live and drive in New Jersey, you might be suffering from a guilt-ridden wedgie right now! Maybe statistics would prove my argument or perhaps there are no glaring facts to support my observations? But man, do I experience it, and as a father, I fear it. I can only offer my ex-rays and white knuckles as evidence. God knows, the Police report left out the 55 feet of skid marks, which they only verbally pointed out, that dreadful night. And NO, it was neither an SUV nor a Pickup truck, that hit me in 2018. So, I do not need to work this out in therapy!
If I spoke of a “particular town,” in Ocean County, NJ (call it Fakewood) and the many unsafe drivers that parade there, few would argue that point with me. My eyes do not lie! I understand, Pickup guys — you got them custom big, curb crushing tires, and atmosphere destroying-phallic symbolic, unnecessary exhaust pipes, and we regular car folk, just do not understand, that you’ve gotta’ load up six yards a’ mulch, for your wife’s garden. You have every right, to cut off (and startle) every motorist, as you make your way to Home Depot. You there, with your Real Estate license … in your state-of-the-art SUV … on an important cell phone call, about the wrong faucets that were delivered to your house … I am already doing 70 mph on the Garden State Parkway, just to keep up with the flow of traffic. Suddenly, I look in my rearview mirror, to find that you are in my backseat. I deserve this, for being humane, so I am going to move out of your way. I enjoy watching your tailgating, everyone in front of me, as you shoot for driving, no-handed, at 100 mph, because nothing could ever possibly happen to you, in your Family Truck-ster. Oh, by the way, when the unexplained traffic backs up, after all your reckless endangerment, we will be right next to each other, so wave!
I am considering a move to Maine. It is the least expensive state for car insurance and your biggest life-threatening event, on the highway, is a stray moose! Arrive Alive — Share the Road — Give Us A Brake — and let us not forget, “Do Not Be A Selfish Asshole.” Oh, have they not made that sign yet?
