Houston Deserves Higher Road Rage Rating
I've driven in almost every major city in America, from New York City to Los Angeles, from Chicago to Houston.
Every city has its own motorist personality.
Florida motorists, for the most part, drive slow. Seattle and Dallas drivers are friendly. New Yorkers who dumbly take to the streets in their cars might find themselves sitting in gridlocked traffic for the rest of their lives, shooting the finger at each other with class, style and character.
Austin motorists on a frontage road will not yield to drivers exiting the freeway. Corpus Christi motorists on a frontage road will stop and sit at a freeway exit even if there are no vehicles coming.
Earlier this week, The Enterprise carried a story that, according to to AutoVantage, a Connecticut-based automobile membership club offering travel services and roadside assistance, ranked Houston as No. 11 on a list of American cities with the worst road rage. Cities were judged on factors such as impatient motorists, poor driving in fast lanes and driving while stressed, frustrated or angry.
Story link:
http://www.zwire.com/site/index.cfm?newsid=18345881&BRD=2287&PAG=461&dept_id=512588&rfi=8
Miami ranked No. 1. I haven't driven in Miami, so I can't speak of its drivers. But I can speak for Houston and how it compares cities that ranked higher.
I grew up in Houston. I learned to drive in Houston. I still drive around in Houston often.
And I think motorists there are the craziest, meanest, most clueless and most aggressive sons-of-guns in America.
It's almost as if, instead of taking a defensive-driving class, they are required to take offensive driving instead.
Other cities falling ahead of Houston on the road-road list were, in order, New York, Boston, Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., Phoenix, Chicago, Sacramento, Calif., Philadelphia and San Francisco.
I've driven in every one of those cities except Boston and Philadelphia. I've never been to Philadelphia, but I have been to Boston. From what I can tell, while the general populace might be the planet's grumpiest, rudest people - except on Boston Marathon day - I don't recall seeing a lot of road mayhem.
Houston freeways often look like a pond with thousands of angry water bugs zigzagging around. Approaching the city from out of town, it feels like being sucked at an accelerating speed into some kind of vortex of insanity. Rush hour is an exercise in impatience and attention-deficit disorder. Motorists ride each other's bumpers and find no satisfaction in any lane.
To worsen matters, the road-construction gods can never seem to find satisfaction with freeways. Subsequently, expansions and reconfigurations never end, leaving motorists with those dangerous, intimidating, too-close-for-comfort concrete road barriers to navigate through.
The road-rage study didn't include Beaumont, but law enforcement representatives here said motorists generally are friendly. However, one cop noted that motorists here can't seem to figure out how to merge, particularly at the U.S. 69-Interstate 10 interchange.
During the "rush hour," which by comparison is a popcorn line at the movie theater versus Houston's long wait in a post-hurricane FEMA line, northbound traffic stacks up right around where the I-10 ramp joins U.S. 69. There must be something there that makes motorists hesitate, because once you get a half mile down the road, the traffic quickly clears up.
I recently witnessed one of those rare satisfying motorist moments at that interchange. I was about to take the ramp to U.S. 69, and some impatient jackass in a pickup truck was riding my bumper, even though I was right at the speed limit. Also, there were lots of cars in a line right ahead of me, so there was nowhere for either of us to go.
Nevertheless, Johnny Jackass couldn't wait and decided to pass me on the shoulder. I immediately felt a gut-churning sense of fear and danger. But as he got even with me, an awesome thing happened: He ran over something and obliterated a tire.
BLAM! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP!
With nowhere to go, and me laughing uncontrollably, he dropped back and had to ride on his rim all the way down the ramp until he could get off at the Delaware exit.
He got even with me again as he headed down the exit. But before he was on the frontage road, he made my day by looking over to find me laughing, pointing at his tire and giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.
He looked away, shook his head and drove on.
That'll teach him to mess with a battle-hardened Houston driver.
Every city has its own motorist personality.
Florida motorists, for the most part, drive slow. Seattle and Dallas drivers are friendly. New Yorkers who dumbly take to the streets in their cars might find themselves sitting in gridlocked traffic for the rest of their lives, shooting the finger at each other with class, style and character.
Austin motorists on a frontage road will not yield to drivers exiting the freeway. Corpus Christi motorists on a frontage road will stop and sit at a freeway exit even if there are no vehicles coming.
Earlier this week, The Enterprise carried a story that, according to to AutoVantage, a Connecticut-based automobile membership club offering travel services and roadside assistance, ranked Houston as No. 11 on a list of American cities with the worst road rage. Cities were judged on factors such as impatient motorists, poor driving in fast lanes and driving while stressed, frustrated or angry.
Story link:
http://www.zwire.com/site/index.cfm?newsid=18345881&BRD=2287&PAG=461&dept_id=512588&rfi=8
Miami ranked No. 1. I haven't driven in Miami, so I can't speak of its drivers. But I can speak for Houston and how it compares cities that ranked higher.
I grew up in Houston. I learned to drive in Houston. I still drive around in Houston often.
And I think motorists there are the craziest, meanest, most clueless and most aggressive sons-of-guns in America.
It's almost as if, instead of taking a defensive-driving class, they are required to take offensive driving instead.
Other cities falling ahead of Houston on the road-road list were, in order, New York, Boston, Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., Phoenix, Chicago, Sacramento, Calif., Philadelphia and San Francisco.
I've driven in every one of those cities except Boston and Philadelphia. I've never been to Philadelphia, but I have been to Boston. From what I can tell, while the general populace might be the planet's grumpiest, rudest people - except on Boston Marathon day - I don't recall seeing a lot of road mayhem.
Houston freeways often look like a pond with thousands of angry water bugs zigzagging around. Approaching the city from out of town, it feels like being sucked at an accelerating speed into some kind of vortex of insanity. Rush hour is an exercise in impatience and attention-deficit disorder. Motorists ride each other's bumpers and find no satisfaction in any lane.
To worsen matters, the road-construction gods can never seem to find satisfaction with freeways. Subsequently, expansions and reconfigurations never end, leaving motorists with those dangerous, intimidating, too-close-for-comfort concrete road barriers to navigate through.
The road-rage study didn't include Beaumont, but law enforcement representatives here said motorists generally are friendly. However, one cop noted that motorists here can't seem to figure out how to merge, particularly at the U.S. 69-Interstate 10 interchange.
During the "rush hour," which by comparison is a popcorn line at the movie theater versus Houston's long wait in a post-hurricane FEMA line, northbound traffic stacks up right around where the I-10 ramp joins U.S. 69. There must be something there that makes motorists hesitate, because once you get a half mile down the road, the traffic quickly clears up.
I recently witnessed one of those rare satisfying motorist moments at that interchange. I was about to take the ramp to U.S. 69, and some impatient jackass in a pickup truck was riding my bumper, even though I was right at the speed limit. Also, there were lots of cars in a line right ahead of me, so there was nowhere for either of us to go.
Nevertheless, Johnny Jackass couldn't wait and decided to pass me on the shoulder. I immediately felt a gut-churning sense of fear and danger. But as he got even with me, an awesome thing happened: He ran over something and obliterated a tire.
BLAM! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! FLAP!
With nowhere to go, and me laughing uncontrollably, he dropped back and had to ride on his rim all the way down the ramp until he could get off at the Delaware exit.
He got even with me again as he headed down the exit. But before he was on the frontage road, he made my day by looking over to find me laughing, pointing at his tire and giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up.
He looked away, shook his head and drove on.
That'll teach him to mess with a battle-hardened Houston driver.
posted by Brian Pearson at 10:04 AM
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