Cars are dangerous in so many ways. See the SUV Rant for some of the ways. When I say cars, I mean motor vehicles in general, and especially the bigger ones.
I've had a few scary experiences with demented drivers. I think that when people get behind the wheel, they change. Power corrupts, and powerful dinosaur-fueled vehicles corrupt absolutely. Driving can be fun, and going fast can be fun, but when someone gets in the way, frustration and tempers flare. Most humans just aren't mature enough to handle this technology.
So, about the demented drivers in the Mono Basin. I'm going to focus on the big trucks, since they are the most dangerous vehicles and their drivers have done many stupid things around me. They speed through town and don't slow down for bicycles where the highway is narrow--instead of recognizing the importance of my life and slowing down to safely pass me (when I'm on a bike), they obviously think that the time on their watch is more important than my life, or the lives of oncoming drivers, and about 90% of trucks maintain their high speed and cross the double yellow line. If they are going too fast to safely pass me in their lane, then they are exceeding the basic speed limit. They are driving too fast for conditions. I calmly flip them off in return, and wonder what is wrong with the world--it isn't just the trucks, but many other vehicles too.
One time I was crossing the highway in the crosswalk in front of Nicely's Restaurant. I crossed from the Bell's Hardware side, and walked at a smooth, medium pace across the northbound lanes. Southbound cars had PLENTY of time to see me coming and slow down. I didn't dart into traffic, or lunge, or hide--I was very visible and moving at a constant pace. The highway is 7 lanes wide here-two parking lanes, two northbound lanes, two southbound lanes, and a center median turning lane. By the time I got to the center median lane, the trucker that was barreling toward me in the next lane woke up. By the time I got halfway across the center lane, I slowed my pace as it appeared the truck was going to violate my right of way (and run over me). At this point the truck locked up its brakes, skidding the wheels on the trailer, and coming to a stop just barely in front of the crosswalk. Slightly surprised and shaken, I continued my way across the street, in front of the now-still, massive dangerous machine. The smell of rubber from the smoking tires filled the air.
Just the other morning I watched a truck swerve into the left lane--which was already occupied--and the driver in the left lane swerved into the center median to avoid getting smushed. There were no other cars around. There was nothing in the road in the right lane to swerve around. After the car passed the truck, the truck turned back into its own lane. The trucker was probably just on crack.
I ran into another crack addict a couple of months ago. It was around 1 or 2 in the morning, and as I came into Lee Vining from the north on my motorcycle, I pulled into the left lane to pass a car. I was going the 35 mph speed limit, and around the school crosswalk in front of the Chevron the big truck that had been gaining rapidly on us failed to slow down for the town and passed both me and the car that was in the right lane by driving at least 45 mph in the median. In the median! Through town! At least 10 mph over the speed limit! At night! I was shocked that someone would be so stupid and selfish!
The biggest shocker hit me about 5 years ago. And the SWIFT truck did indeed hit me. SWIFT often recklessly speeds through here. And Caltrans tries to widen and speed up the highway so that more trucks come through here. It is just like the Bureau of Reclamation or Army Corps building dams for a very small constituency, ignoring all the impacts on people and nature. Project after damn project. Pretty damn frustrating.
I was driving a 1986 Mazda 323 hatchback--a very tiny car. It was red and had bumper stickers all over it with an unpainted black hood. It got about 30-35 mpg, which I considered decent mileage at the time. I stopped at the stop sign on First Street, and turned north on Highway 395. As I sped up, A large SWIFT Truck passed me in the left lane. Soon we were going the same speed, and I was alongside the truck. I decided that I might as well get ahead of it before the highway narrowed down at Mono Lake, so I sped up enough to get ahead of it just before the lanes merged. We were going about 65 mph, 5 over the speed limit when the highway narrowed to one lane, with the SWIFT Truck directly behind me.
As I looked ahead, I saw an RV pulling onto the highway northbound from the Old Marina Mono Lake access. We were approaching rapidly and the RV wasn't speeding up that fast, so I took my foot off the gas to slow down. The SWIFT Truck did not want to slow down. It came up very close behind me. The RV reached a cruising speed of 55 mph, and stayed there. Because the SWIFT Truck was MASSIVE and was not allowing ANY following distance, I kept a double following distance behind the RV. We drove along the lakeshore, the RV, me, and the SWIFT Truck, in that formation, at 55 mph. With the huge behemoth filling up my back window and mirrors, I was pretty nervous. It was VERY close.
At around the Brine Shrimp Plant, the SWIFT Truck flashed its headlights at me. I couldn't believe this. Couldn't it see the RV in front of me? What was the problem? This was ridiculous. I decided that whoever was in the SWIFT Truck was a maniac, and I'd let them pass me and get them out of my hair as soon as the highway opened up to four lanes just north of the Mono Inn. My eyes were glued to my rearview mirror until we got there.
When the highway opened up, I sat in the right lane at 55, expecting the truck to pass. It didn't. It sat right behind me. Very close. How close? Well, when I took my foot off the gas to further encourage the SWIFT Truck to pass me, it hit me. IT HIT ME! There was this bump. A forward-backward jolt. We were both going 55 mph.
I was incredulous. I couldn't believe it. The SWIFT Truck hit me, for no good reason! At 55 mph! A massive, giant, behemoth of a vehicle, hit my tiny little hatchback at highway speeds!
I immediately hit the gas to get away from the crazy assailant. Then I realized that we had an accident and we should stop and exchange information. So I pointed out my window at the shoulder. The truck stayed behind me. So I pulled over. The SWIFT Truck whizzed past me and kept going. I couldn't believe it! Not only had the SWIFT Truck hit me, but it was leaving the scene of the accident! A hit and run!
I immediately pulled back on the highway, turned on my emergency flashers and my headlights, and followed the truck. I decided that I'd follow it to the Bridgeport CHP headquarters if necessary, 25 miles north.
I didn't need to. Just north of Mono City, along Conway Ranch, a California Highway Patrol vehicle was coming the other direction. Never in my life was I more glad to see the Highway Patrol! I waved my arm out my window as we passed each other. He made a U-turn as I pulled over. He came up to me, and I jumped out and pointed at the SWIFT Truck just beginning to ascend the Conway Summit grade, and told him that the truck had hit me. He said, "Follow me."
The officer pulled over the SWIFT Truck at the big bend. I parked behind them, got out of my car, and walked toward the front of the truck where the officer stood. As I reached the cab, a heavy-set woman got out of the SWIFT Truck and landed on the ground. She said to me, "I don't appreciate you damaging my truck, sir."
Once again, she gave me a reason to be incredulous. My jaw hung open. I couldn't believe she was saying this. Me? Damage her truck? She pointed to one of her turn signals, high on top of the front wheel well, that was broken. The CHP Officer immediately told her that there was no way my little car could have damaged her turn signal way up there. She then proceeded to accuse me of "backing into" her. The CHP Officer also tried to get her to explain how this was possible, and repeatedly corrected her that I didn't "back into her". He looked at the damage to my car--a small dent in between the bumper and the right rear taillight.
After getting both sides of our stories, he said that because we disagreed and because there were no witnesses, there wasn't much he could do. He asked me what I wanted. Again, I was incredulous. I didn't know what to say. I figured that he should know what should happen next, not me. I said that the damage was so minimal that it wasn't something that needed to be fixed. But also that it was dangerous, and something should be done. He said he would write up a report that would be available to us. He let me go, but continued to talk to the crazy SWIFT Truck driver. When I got back to my car, I copied down all the information on the back of the truck, including the toll-free "How am I driving?" number. When I got home I called the number and complained to SWIFT Transporation Co., and wrote a letter as well.
I wish I had been thinking on my feet. When the officer asked me what I wanted, I should have said that I wanted her charged with assault with a deadly weapon and hit and run. As it stands, she probably saw very little consequences. She might have done it again. She might have even killed someone by now--I hope not, since maybe I could have prevented it by pressing charges. As I left the scene, I implored her to drive safely. I can only hope that she did.
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Copyright © 1998-2008
Gregory J. Reis
