It’s where only the strongest survive
Driving in and around Vancouver in a 4 wheeler turns out to be a death-defying misadventure
At my age, I truly enjoy new experiences. Well … not all of them. Maybe I should re-phrase that : “I am not too old to learn from new experiences.” That’s better.
A couple of weeks ago, my Editor, Mr. Andrew asked me if I would snap a couple of photos that related to a column. I didn’t consider it a problem, so on a Wednesday afternoon, after I had parked the ‘Pete’, I jumped into my soccer mom/grocery-getter and headed down Highway 1 into Vancouver. It was a sunny afternoon, and I was content to be piloting four wheels instead of 22. I zipped along with the traffic, made my exit and in less time than I thought was shooting photos with my 35mm camera. Remember those things? REAL cameras. I use my cellphone for talking on; not taking photos to share in the newspaper.
Yes, I am strange. My wife keeps telling me so. But, I am also very comfortable driving in roundabouts, so that makes us even.
Back to the story. When the photo shoot was over, I headed back to the freeway via the Willingdon Street on-ramp headed east for the valley. I set the cruise control at the posted limit, and couldn’t believe my eyes. It was as though I had been nailed to the pavement. I was the slowest vehicle on the highway. I was passed by every type of vehicle, and every type of driver, male, female, young and old.
One Granny darn new blew my doors off. Maybe she had cookies baking in the oven at home and had forgotten to take them out before she went out racing. Maybe she was late to pick up her grandkids.
My head was on a swivel. I watched the colours and shapes whiz by me, and found myself wondering what was the reason. The idea of lemmings rushing off the edge of a cliff sprang to mind.
When I drive, I do so as though playing a game of chess. I am trying to figure out my next three moves, and at the same time, trying to figure out what those I am sharing the road with plan to do, when, and how far ahead of me. I make it a game. I call it survival.
If somebody does something unexpected in front, or beside me, at 90 kilometres (or faster) an hour, then I hope to be prepared for it. If that makes me out to be a slowpoke, so be it. Survival is life or death, and it should not be a game where only the strongest survive.
Unfortunately, driving in and around Vancouver, in a 4 wheeler, is to me, a death-defying misadventure.
Driving a big commercial rig on these same roads and highways is a whole different adventure. We commercial drivers have so much more on our minds as we manoeuvre 23 metres of truck and trailer down the slab that we tend not to notice the stupid brain-dead, death defying antics going on with the 4-wheelers. Instead, these smaller vehicles become objects to be avoided. It’s just that simple. When we become one of the masses, then it is brain overload time.
Once upon a time, when I was
I could fill a newspaper with stories about life on the road, but why not share yours? Send them to Driving editor Andrew McCredie at amccredie@postmedia.com a teenager, I too thought I was the world’s best driver. It took me quite some time to come to the realization that everything comes to an end at the most unexpected time. You only have to have seen what I’ve seen on the highways all over North America to realize that humans do not do well in high-speed crashes.
If you don’t believe me, go to your favourite electronic store and buy yourself a ‘dash cam.’ Then if you get home safely, take it in the house and plug it in to your laptop or computer and watch what went on around you on your way home. If that doesn’t wake you up, then nothing will.
Mrs. roundabout and I both have dash cams. It is a daily, non-stop scary movie, with no commercials.