Joe, I learned to drive by walking in Boston, across Mass Ave.in rush hour. Boston drivers are the worst and the roads help them be so. An Iowa girl I met, a teacher, gave up driving after 6 months in Boston. Three people can go thru a stop sign if the first one stops, chaos! We played cards all night and went out to breakfast at 5:30 AM. We sped thru Back Bay, and the driver never stopped at ANY stoplight. No drinking involved, but I was sure we would ALL DIE! Regards, Bob S.
On Wed, May 6, 2009 at 6:51 PM, Joseph McAllister <[email protected]> wrote: > I am very pleased to see that others are taking the heat that used to be > born by the sainted drivers of Boston, Mass. > > Until rustproofing became something more than spraying oil and wax on the > bottom of your car every year, and snow removal no longer consisted of raw > salt being spread on the roads every other day all winter, most every New > England car consisted of steel lace from the top of the wheel wells down to > the missing rocker panels. > > In this condition, Bostonians (and most New Englanders) cared nothing for > any damage done to their cars at intersections, especially those known as > "round-a-bouts" or traffic circles, an architectural holdover from Europe, > mainly Italy, where they were also considered a sport having nothing to do > with traffic control. The general rule was they who had a fender the > furthest into an intersection had the right of way. Very sporting. > > It was in this environment, covered with ice and snow, or foot deep in > slush, with few if any street signs telling you where you actually were, and > no road that was anywhere near straight (transportation terraforming we'd > call it now days), that I learned to navigate like pigeons, using the > earth's magnetic field to determine if I should turn right or left, or which > road to veer into off of a round-a-bout, all the while keeping my speed up > for fear of getting stuck in a ditch or pile of slush left by the > omnipresent county snow plows, supplemented by hundreds of farmers with > pickup mounted plows clearing driveways for $2-$7 a pop, not a one > coordinating where to leave the at times mountain-like dirty piles of snow > that would remain until spring. > > At 14, I learned to drive in my mother's 47 Plymouth sedan, sneaking out > after everyone was asleep, and testing my skills through the countryside > between towns. I learned to complete curves at higher than normal speeds by > hitting the snow banks on either side of the road at just the right angle to > alter my trajectory to be in the middle of the road at the exit of the > curve. Miscalculation either left you in the snow on the opposite side of > the road, or buried in the bank you tried to slingshot. The post-war steel > fenders were never damaged that winter, being a tank-like thickness. You > also had to know which snowbanks hid the traditional New England > (English/Irish) stone walls built from the annual harvest of granite that > appeared when the snow melted off your fields every spring. Rather than > damage your plow, the stones were carried to the edge of the fields and > stacked. The walls would dent the fenders, for sure. > > On one particular Friday afternoon after school, southern New Hampshire > roads having been blessed by a heavy snowstorm dumping a couple of feet of > snow, I set off with a few buddies to go skiing for the weekend. The roads > had had their "first plowing" leaving a semi-hard packed 4 to 6 inched of > bright white snow. At one point, after traveling many miles using the "go > fast downhill so you can make it to the crest of the next hill" technique, I > topped a large hill and saw before me two cars stuck getting up the hill > towards me, at 45 degree angles, drivers digging snow or spreading sand in > an attempt to extricate themselves, and three cars on the opposite slope in > similar circumstances, one of which was actually stuck in the snowbank on > the other side of the road. One of my companions noted that it looked like > our travel was stopped until we could get all these cars on their way again. > (Pennsylvania drivers take note - you have the same hills, but straight > roads) > > "Nope," I said. "I can make it." So I sounded my horn to alert, turned up > the AM radio to it's anemically loud level, engaged second gear of my > father's 56 Ford Fairlane 4 dr. sedan with a small V-8 (wheels spun if you > tried first gear, so you slipped the clutch in second or third) and started > down the hill on the wrong side, shifting into 3rd before I got to the > bottom, and feathering the gas to maintain traction as I started to pull the > hill. Half way up I had to hit the snowbank on between the two cars on my > side of the road to ricochet around the car sideways on the opposite side of > the road, grabbing 2nd gear at the same time, my foot shaking in my effort > to not give the car any more gas that the rear "snow" tires could take, > nudging the snowbank of the left side of the road for stability, and still > make the top of the grade. Which I did, at 5 mph in second, and on our way > we went. > > Now that's a Boston driver, circa 1958! > > > On May 6, 2009, at 14:10 , frank theriault wrote: > >> On Wed, May 6, 2009 at 2:59 PM, William Robb <[email protected]> wrote: >> >>> Nope. I hail from the region of Canada that has the worst drivers in the >>> country. >>> We don't use turn signals. >>> We don't shoulder check. >>> We either drive 15km/hr over the speed limit of 15km/hr under, unless we >>> are >>> on the highway, in which case it's 30km/hr under. >>> We have no idea what the left lane is for, but we are sure that we'll >>> want >>> to turn left at some point, so we'd better stay in it (and travel >>> 15-30km/hr >>> under the speed limit). >>> We don't use mirrors (though some ladies do use the vanity mirror for >>> applying make-up, generally while travelling 15-30km/hr under the speed >>> limit in the left lane). >>> Yellow lights create a Pavlovian response in us towards the gas pedal. >>> We are red/green colour blind. >>> We aren't close enough to the car in front until we can't see the tail >>> lights. >>> Stop signs are just a suggestion. >>> We are tough, we yield to no one. >>> You see a pedestrian on a sidewalk, we see a moving target. >>> You see a pedestrain in a crosswalk, we see a moving target wearing a >>> bullseye. >>> No on told us that the game of points for whacking pedestrians isn't >>> really >>> a game. >>> Every one has right of way, the person who has the nicest car yields (our >>> one tip of the hat to defensive driving). >>> >>> Good times. >> >> You moved to Toronto? And you didn't tell me? (not that I blame you) >> >> cheers, >> frank - from the ~real~ home of Canada's worst drivers > > Joseph McAllister > [email protected] > > http://gallery.me.com/jomac > http://web.me.com/jomac/show.me/Blog/Blog.html > > > > > > > -- > PDML Pentax-Discuss Mail List > [email protected] > http://pdml.net/mailman/listinfo/pdml_pdml.net > to UNSUBSCRIBE from the PDML, please visit the link directly above and > follow the directions. > -- PDML Pentax-Discuss Mail List [email protected] http://pdml.net/mailman/listinfo/pdml_pdml.net to UNSUBSCRIBE from the PDML, please visit the link directly above and follow the directions.
