As usual, I spend a lot of time with tongue-in-cheek in this one, and
I suspect people who know me will get a laugh or two, but it concerns a
serious subject, and it takes a very sobering turn at the end.
Frankly, I seriously suggest that loving Mom's, especially those with
little children, allow trusted friends or loved ones to read it first
and suggest whether or not they should read it.
It
was actually a very pleasant experience, and one which I will own up to
having, even though it took place within several hundred yards of D.C.
It
was Monday of the week just passed, and I was sitting in comfort
outside the Cozi Deli in Arlington, enjoying marvelous weather, a Bombay
salad, and a bottle of S. Pellegrino. Nearby, a Blondie lurked inside a
wrapper, waiting its turn to delight. At the next table, a lovely
young Asian woman sat worrying over her phone for a time. Then, in what
seemed to be frustrated but not unexpected resignation, she rose and
walked away with a purpose that suggested a polite but certain homicide
was in store for someone, somewhere.
She was soon replaced by an
Arlington police officer, who in turn was joined minutes later by a
fellow constable. As they both enjoyed a leisurely lunch, they were
approached by several folks who asked directions or had similar requests
for information. I observed their demeanor as they dealt with the
public, for I had already determined that these fellows might be a
source of information necessary for some impromptu research I wished to
carry out. They were friendly, professional, and unassuming. And so,
encouraged by this display, and after waiting for what I regarded as a
respectful amount of time before putting them through the momentary
suspicion of being interrupted by some nerd reading Thomas Paine, I
asked if they would excuse a question or two.
They agreed, so I
asked if they had spent any time on motor patrol, and the one officer
indicated that he had done so, and that his colleague was currently
serving in that capacity. My belief that they could provide the input I
needed being confirmed, I asked them to give me their estimation of how
many automobile accidents out of every ten on the interstates and other major highways were the result of one car
striking another from behind – the proverbial “rear-ender”. As I
suspected, they gave me one of what I figured were the two most likely
figures - specifically, six. I thought seven possible, but unlikely.
I
then asked how many out of those six were caused by the car in the rear
speeding up. The first officer said “On purpose?” to which I replied
“No, just any case at all." They both agreed that such an occurrence
was so rare as to say “Never”. So then, I reasoned out loud,
discounting for the moment all the usual issues such as following too
closely, talking on the phone – which they both were careful to say was a
serious issue on the highways – and other distractions, the majority of
accidents on the road were ultimately the result of cars slowing down,
most occurrences of which are sudden and, because they are the result of
incompetence, entirely unnecessary. I wasn’t trying to excuse
following too closely or any other bad driving habit; I just had a
different point to make. So far, these two amiable officers were with
me in my conclusions.
So then I asked how many of the remaining
four occurrences were the result of lane-changes. Leaving room for
other factors, they said “Most of them.”
With this, your
correspondent was batting a thousand. These officers had confirmed what
I was already convinced of, although it’s hardly profound: almost
every accident on the highways, the Interstates in particular, are the
result of people slowing down and/or changing lanes. In short, changes
in velocity – which I trust you realize consists of both speed and
direction – are the worst maneuvers to engage in behind the wheel while
traveling at high speed.
So, why all this bother? Well, it
happened one day while I was rolling down I-64 headed for
who-knows-where. I was north of Newport News, westbound in the right
lane, when I approached a State Police car that had pulled another
driver over, evidently in the process of enhancing the Commonwealth’s
revenue stream by means of ticketing someone who probably had done
nothing wrong, just something illegal.
A brief aside here, folks:
traffic tickets are not intended to change anyone’s driving habits.
They are a form of taxation, one that operates on the simple reality
that punishment kept below a certain tolerance level will result in no
behavioral modification, such modification being undesirable because it
will result in a lowering of the revenue generated by repetition of the
offending behavior. And spare me any retorts involving
driver-improvement courses; if you even thought of that, it indicates a
naiveté that would render any explanation pointless.
Back to my
experience; as I neared the scene, the officer noticed that I was just
moving along as if he wasn’t there, which to outward observation is
exactly what I should have been doing, my intent being to pass him
safely while doing nothing to interrupt the flow of traffic. In an act
that bled righteous indignation, he stopped suddenly while walking back
to his vehicle, fixed me with stare that I can only suppose was intended
to have some meaning to me, and shot out his right arm with a
surprising degree of passion for a Virginia State Trooper, plainly
indicating that I should have changed lanes. I remember thinking to
myself “Why would I do something so stupid and pointless?”
Why, indeed?
As
it turns out, the General Assembly had it in mind to address a very
real problem that occurs with frightening regularity, and it was this
that occasioned the Trooper’s antics. Every year, there are police
officers maimed or killed by vegetables disguised as human beings who
manage to slip past the rigid safeguards of the motor vehicle department
and get their seed-pods wrapped around a driver’s license. These
plant-lifes then get command of what is essentially a non-nuclear
missile and proceed to aim it in slip-shod fashion down the roads with
the rest of us at metal-tearing speeds. A common affliction among these
various cabbages and zucchinis is a tendency not unlike that displayed
by a moth when confronted with a bug-zapper: when they see a vehicle
with bright flashing lights, they actually steer for it. Folks, I
promise you I’m not making this up. There have been many officers
killed or seriously wounded by morons who are incapable of understanding
the basic law of physics which tells us that two forms of matter cannot
occupy the same space at the same time, and the General Assembly,
laudably, wants the carnage to stop.
Their answer?
Require the general public to engage in the two activities that cause almost every accident on the highway…
A
few days after my encounter with Trooper Indignant, I’m back on the
Interstate, going who-knows-where. Imagine my surprise when I see a
sign on the side of the road that says “State Law – You must slow down
or change lanes when approaching a stationary emergency vehicle”. Or
something close to that.
Son of a gun; no wonder that Trooper was
waving at me like I was a schoolboy who was about to walk into the wrong
bathroom! He thought I was doing something wrong!
I wasn’t, of
course, but I was breaking the law, a law of which I had been unaware,
or so I would have been told if he caught up with me at the 7-11.
Known
as the “Slow Down Move Over” law, Section 46.2 – 921.1 of the Code of
Virginia requires motorists who are approaching parked emergency
vehicles with flashing lights to change lanes or slow down.
At least that’s what we are told it says.
In
another garden-variety example of incompetence by government – you
know, the same people who issue driver’s licenses to broccoli – the
law’s language is confusing and open to opposing conclusions. In other
words, a lawyer’s dream.
We start with the statute’s summary:
§
46.2-921.1. Drivers to yield right-of-way or reduce speed when
approaching stationary emergency vehicles on highways; penalties.
Seems plain, doesn’t it? “You see blinking lights, move over or slow down”.
Okay, I got that.
