Friday, October 29, 2010

City driving


I live in a city now. Therefore, I drive in a city now. When I first started driving in Baltimore I was more than a little bit apprehensive. The roads were all unfamiliar (plus there were a ton of them!) and the drivers were more aggressive (plus there were a ton of them!). I was scared to drive at first, but as I slowly grew accustomed to the way of a city driver I embraced it as a challenge, an adventure. Could I reach my destination without looking at it on Google Maps first? Could I get there without using a map at all? Yes, and yes, eventually I could.

My driving progressed and I began to look at it more as a competition. Could I get there faster, without breaking speed limits? Could I choose the best roads and the fastest lanes? If I wanted to turn left a few blocks later, but the right lane was moving more quickly now, then could I trust myself to merge later after passing a few cars? I was hoping the answer would become yes more frequently. That hasn’t happened yet.

City driving is too random. I can’t take everything into account. I can’t create a winning formula. Mathematically, driving is too complex. Sometimes I’d make good choices, but those same choices would be slower the next day. Sometimes a car would stop randomly in a lane and force all other cars to bottleneck around them. Sometimes it’d be construction, other times a moving truck. Taxi cabs are the real wildcard that I can’t quite grasp. Occasionally they are the most aggressive vehicles on the road. Other times they can be the kindest, most patient drivers.

So I’ve given up. This is my declaration of resignation. Baltimore, your roads no longer intimidate me, but I can’t figure them out. I promise to not always seek the fastest way and instead enjoy the drive for a change.

1 comment:

  1. Once in Corning I was driving down Denison Pkwy, intent on calculating if my lane or the other would be fastest for the next blocks, wanting to save every second I could on my way home, when I realized I just passed George Berkey. There he was in the slow lane, listening to Chip Ingram or someone he had recorded, relaxed, enjoying his commute home. And I realized he was the one making the most of his time.

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