I have lived in Southern California for almost two years. I can count on my hands (with fingers left over) the number of times I drove in my first year. I wish I could say it was because I didn’t own a car but in all honesty I was dealing with a past trauma. Let me back up a bit. Well I need to back up a lot. When I was sixteen I was living in Southern California. Driver Training was part of the high school curriculum. Half the class was book (rules and laws) and half the class was on the road. What they never covered was navigation. Did I mention I was living in Southern California?
After securing my license and for the next 3 years I attempted to navigate my surroundings. I was okay in my city and neighboring cities; I could find my way to the beach and back. But the minute I got on the freeway something happened to my brain. The spacial something or other was not aligned with my centrifugal thingy and in spite of having directions written down on good old-fashioned paper I was always getting lost.
Now some 30 years later, with exponentially larger freeways, I had secured a job 88 miles from where I lived. And the trauma from driving in The Land Of the Lost has reared its ugly head.
For the first three months I drove the 14 and the 405 through the Sepulveda Pass, past LAX to Manhattan Beach.
My new mantra: What’s the worse that could happen? And if the answer isn’t death- jump!, was not passing the test on this one. Death was on the table.
It’s not the driving that I am fearful of rather it is the fear of being lost and not in control of my surroundings. And I did not know the area I was driving through. I had bought my car on a Thursday. I was to start work Monday February 3 2014. I had a cell phone and a GPS. I have the technology. I can be found.
I had returned to The Land of the Lost…
I was in the belly of the beast. And there were new rules.
1 No matter if you are driving the freeway, the middle of nowhere or in the city there is a universal speed limit: go with the flow.
2 Stops signs are merely a suggestion.
3 Lane closures happen. Accidents happen.
4 Accidents with injury close the freeway and are called Sig Alerts on traffic radio. It took me months before I knew what a Sig Alert was all about.
5 The far left lane used for break downs are now Carpool lanes. Then there is the Fast Track. Fast track is a fancy way to say toll road. I’m not sure how one pays for those. So far, I have been able to avoid them.
6 I have heard many a traffic update about a Sweeper Train accident. I am told they clean the freeway. And are frequently involved in accidents. I have yet to see one.
The Car Pool Lane
In order to qualify to use the Car Pool Lane you must:
1 Have more than one human-being in the car.
2 I don’t think the person has to be alive because on one occasion I saw a hearse.
3 The state of California does not care that you consider them a member of the family, animals do not count as human.
4 Babies and children qualify.
5 I found this cute doll and considered putting her in the car seat to qualify. Everyone I shared this idea with agreed it was not a good idea.
6 The most important thing to remember: not everyone follows the rules.
Once you are in the carpool lane you may not exit until you reach the Carpool lane exit. Which is marked by a broken line on your right and a big sign above. These usually occur about a mile or so before an exit or interchange. To use this lane requires that you know where you are going. Now add a gazillion tourists who don’t have a fucking idea about the rules or where they are going. Drop them all together during Rush Hour which spans oh I don’t know anywhere from 5:00am – 9:00pm. Too many people not enough road. You just gotta learn to go with the flow. If only it were that easy.
And then there are the motorcyclist. They navigate the freeways in the most absurd combined reality game of ‘Pac Man and Frogger’.
You are about to travel one of the busiest stretches of California highway in the history of highways on a mode of transportation that leaves you fully exposed and without an air bag and only a helmet. What you have to ask yourself is… Do I feel lucky?’
Motorcycles can drive in any lane but they prefer to drive between the lanes. Seriously. So you may be driving in bumper to bumper (3.2 mph) and the motorcyclist going 25 or 35 mph makes their own lane between you and the rental car full of tourist in the Carpool Lane; who don’t understand the rules of the carpool lane and decide to exit their lane crossing in front of the motor cycle. And that there, is almost always a Sig Alert.
My crowning achievement. I delivered this cake fully assembled via the 405.
176 miles each day. Approximately 9,152 miles total. No runs. No hits. No errors.
I survived The 405.
Say goodnight Gracie.
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