OR
“Whoever invented the Winnebago should be dragged out into the street and shot…”

Have you been outside recently? And when I refer to the outside, I’m thinking specifically of the roads and highways which weave themselves throughout the plains and foothills of this fine nation. If you answered NO, then consider yourself one up on me because I’ve had just about all that I can take…

Living in Northern Michigan, I’m pretty much exposed to tourists in one form or another during any given day, week or month. They come dashing in during the spring and summer months to splendor at the breath-taking views, the majestic scenery and the fudge, and scuttle off to warmer climates as fall and winter approach, slipping past a new group, this time consisting of snowboarders, skiing enthusiasts and general loonies, on the way out. Of course, neither group can stand the other nor their inherited weather patterns, so both choose to commute on a regular basis, sometimes traveling thousands of miles for a single pound of fudge. Honestly, this wouldn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, except for the fact that they all take to the highways to make their seasonal migration from heaven to hell.

My own personal driving experience is limited to the eastern half of the United States. I’ve never been even as far west as the Rocky Mountains and I can only imagine what driving in Los Angeles is like…isn’t that where Sony did most of their research for Grand Theft Auto III? Anyways, even though I haven’t driven in anywhere near the majority of the states, I have noticed one thing that’s similar among those I have seen – their traffic laws are all nearly identical. That’s right, I’ve yet to cross a state-line and suddenly find myself driving on the wrong side of the road or in some bizarre Reverso-Land where green means STOP, red means GO and nobody still has any idea what to do on yellow! Nevertheless, there must be some state hiding in a corner somewhere which just has the most insane road rules anyone could think of because these people I’m dealing with up here have to be coming from somewhere…

It starts with the fairly simple ones: making right turns on red, staying in the right lane for slower vehicles, and so forth, but the one that I don’t understand – the simplest of them all, as far as I’m concerned – YOU CAN GO WHEN THE LIGHT TURNS GREEN! Apparently many of these folks have the reaction time of a turtle on acid because I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat at a green light for more than twenty seconds while the guy in front decides what he’s going to do. It always happens in the most inconvenient places, too – everyone has a place like this in their hometown, where high and low volume traffic meets and the light timing is ridiculously off – it’ll be green for hours for the cross traffic, then the other side might turn green for roughly fifteen seconds…and typically this would be amble time to get across the street if Captain Decision ahead of you would just go already…

…And then there’s the Winnebago drivers. I don’t mean to rag on the senior citizens, but they’re the ones who keep buying these freightliners and thus they’re opening themselves up for ridicule. Aside from musicians who practically live on the road, nobody needs this much room…ever! What I don’t understand is that pretty much anybody is allowed to drive one of this giants, regardless of the fact that they can’t see without their coke-bottle glasses or hear without their hearing aid turned up full blast – don’t they have tests for these things or something?!?!? It’s bad enough when you encounter an elderly woman driving a Caddy in which she can’t see over the steering wheel – yeah, let’s put ‘em in something even bigger! As far as I’m concerned, each state should require driver’s license retesting yearly when any of your senses start to fade, and there should most definitely be extra tests for anyone driving a vehicle the size of a small house – semi drivers have hours and hours of testing to complete before they’re allowed out on the open road, so why do we simply hand over the keys the second these geezers sign the check?

There are so many things about these types of drivers that irritate me, I just don’t know where to start – the inability to go over 45 mph on a two-lane road, the lack of turn signal use and abrupt stopping, but what gets to me the most is how impossible they make it to pass them. You’ve been following patiently behind them for almost an hour, staring at the flashy letters Road King embossed on the back door. It’s one of those windy, hilly roads in the country, so there’s absolutely no chance of passing and the frequent speed drops around corners are really starting to get annoying! Nevertheless, you see it up in the distance – Passing Lane, Two Miles Ahead. Could it really be true? You dingle with anticipation as the thought of finally passing Grampa fills your head. Finally you reach the moment of truth and the road widens to accommodate an additional lane – you instantly move to the left lane and floor it – this lane isn’t going to last very long, but it will serve its purpose well. Or at least it’s trying to serve its purpose, but as you look into your rearview mirror, expecting to see Gramps enjoying your dust for dinner, all you can see is the empty road behind you…

“What the?” you wonder…where did he go? Nervously looking to your right, you spot the Road King cruising along beside you, now going nearly 70 mph. What is it about four-lane roads that make people temporarily think that they’re allowed to go faster than the speed limit? It’s not a brief freeway, so just what the hell is he doing besides completely crushing your dream of passing him? Soon you see another sign in the distance – Passing Lane Ends, Merge Left – and you instantly know that you’ve lost, again. The old man can’t even see you, so you drop back only seconds before he swings his behemoth back into the left lane. You flip him the bird and blast your horn, but he has absolutely no idea of what’s just happened. He drops his speed back down to 45 mph and you sigh as you realize that the next passing lane isn’t for another 50 miles.

It’s a good thing that the phrase Tourist Season is just a slang term because I’m guessing it would be a very popular activity up here, both for sport and for recreation…