First Person Driver: Learning to Drive Diary, Part 3

In case you’re wondering, I’m not going to talk about the Aventador. I just really want it. I’m not going to fit in it and I’m sure I far exceed its payload rating. But I still want it.

Parallel parking sucks. It really sucks. And I can imagine it never losing its ability to suck, not unlike an overpriced British vacuum cleaner. And it’s deceptively simple the way it was described to me: keeping a distance of half a metre between your car and the other car, line up your rear bumper with the other car’s (or side mirrors if your vehicle is the same length), turn the steering wheel one full circle toward the curb, back up until your mirror passes their bumper, lock the steering in the other direction, back up until you’re parallel to the curb, leave some space in front of your vehicle and you’re done. It works, and it conforms roughly to the instructions given in the Ontario Driver’s Handbook. It does not, however, reflect what I observe in the real world, which usually begins much, much closer to the other vehicle and locking the steering wheel to the curb before any reversing happens.

And it’s not the only thing out of touch with reality. But before we get to that, I have an admission to make: My name is Andy Lin and I am a slow driver.

…the last time I checked, this thing wasn’t called the Honda Boneshaker.I drive at the speed limit. I do 40 or less in a school zone, even on weekends. Even, I might add, when Mr. Wong isn’t sitting beside me and regaling me with all the ways I can fail a road test. Legally speaking, I am a paragon amongst lesser (but much faster) beings.

And there are a lot of reasons to drive at the speed limit. Or rather, I have a lot of reasons to do the speed limit. One is a lack of confidence, be it in myself, in the road conditions of North York, in the little Civic that could or in the dubiously licensed drivers around me. Another one is the fact that I’m driving someone else’s car, and that someone is sitting beside me and possesses the watchful eye and general demeanour of a grumpy screech owl. And finally, the combination of ongoing road work and the worn-out suspension generates a rattling in the chassis that rivals a front-loading washing machine loaded with nuts and bolts doing its spin cycle in the back of a bus full of twerking teenagers, and the last time I checked, this thing wasn’t called the Honda Boneshaker.

Here’s the important part: I keep to the right lane. The left lane is the passing lane. I know this, you know this, anyone who’s managed to pass their road test knows this (or so I’d hope). Enter the left lane and you’re doing one of two things: passing or making a left turn. Return to the right lane when you complete the maneuver. Couldn’t be easier.

And here’s where reality rears its ugly head. I’ve seen people go slower than me in the left lane. No, they weren’t attempting to merge. They weren’t attempting to turn, either. I think he was just out for a nice Sunday drive in an M3. Honestly, I weep for our youth. (Maybe he was just starting to learn stick?)

Parallel parking in Taipei and Taroko Gorge. Neither is for the faint of heart. Click image to enlarge

It’s even worse during rush hour, when a mess of people think, “Oh hey, there are fewer cars in the left lane; I’ll go there and chill out for a little bit, why not.” Then you get the intrepid drivers who dodge and weave and pass on the right because they’re forced to. Or when you get a couple of cars in lockstep and there’s no passing at all, just a lot of peek-a-boo. I know this because my mother regularly demonstrates an affinity for the middle lane if it exists. “But sweetie,” she says, “it says ‘50’ here. You’re not supposed to go faster than that. It’s the law. And it’s safer.” I’ve learned not to look in the side mirror for the inevitable column of cars behind us because my doctor’s told me I have to watch my blood pressure.

Is it safer to drive slowly? Well, you won’t get into any accidents creeping along at parking lot speeds, but that’s not necessarily safer. You might never be caught in an accident, but you might be the cause of accidents around you. People will dart out in front of you because they see a growing gap between you and the cars in front of you. Or they’ll try to squeeze past you at unsafe distances.

The driver’s handbook tells you to drive at or below the posted speed limit. And it makes sense when you’re driving in the right lane like you’re supposed to. But if you’re in the left lane and not keeping up with surrounding traffic, you’re like a rock in the middle of a stream: you’re creating turbulence as others are forced around you. That does not sound safer to me. Lane changes are inherently dangerous, since you have to speed up, watch for cars coming up behind you and all the while making sure you’re keeping a safe distance from the car in front of you.

This being an automotive site, I’m of course preaching to the choir, but this is how I’ve recently convinced my mom to either give it a bit more welly or get into the right lane. Try it out, you may be surprised at the results.

Driving in Taroko Gorge, where going the speed limit is highly recommended. Click image to enlarge

The last thing I’m going to talk about in this instalment is a bad thing I did. I recently, repeatedly, and worst of all, unknowingly rolled through stop signs in my neighbourhood.

“You didn’t stop,” said Mr. Wong.

“I didn’t? I thought I did, I checked the sidewalk and traffic and everything.”

“You think you stopped? Haha, you fail,” using the two-syllable pronunciation of “fail” he reserves for occasions where I’m deeply mistaken.

When I first started driving, I liked stop signs. I could collect my thoughts and scout out my surroundings before I made my next move. There was no pressure to stay in motion. There are a lot of hedges in my neighbourhood, so coming up to a stop sign at a crosswalk, you stop first at the crosswalk, then creep up to get a better view of the intersection. I would stop, count to three, turn the wheel and release brake for a moment, then pause again. I’ve since gotten very good at checking the crosswalk and intersection for traffic.

Problem is, humans have a tendency to speed up as they practice and become comfortable with any particular task. It’s what we expect, be it arithmetic or Chopin or changing diapers. It’s what you hear in everyday speech; people don’t say, “Do you want eggs and bacon?” They say, “Juwanegsinbakn?” That three-second pause became two then one then a brief moment where I braked down to an imperceptible crawl, checked the sidewalk, scanned the intersection, then moved on. Reasonable, I suppose, except for the pesky fact that “imperceptible crawl” equals “not actually stopping”.

Mindfulness (or lack thereof) lies at heart of every bad driving habit. It’s extremely tempting to stop actively processing what’s going on around you and leaving it up to reflex. There is simply too much going on – managing the steering wheel and pedals, watching for vehicles ahead and in your mirrors, checking for sudden pedestrian actions, and that’s just when things are going well. It’s a miracle to me that people who drive regularly don’t all have crippling PTSD or daily attacks of road rage.

An actual Lamborghini Aventador LP 700-4. Because Lamborghini. Click image to enlarge

I thought I was stopped because I’d completed all my usual checks, but in fact I had no awareness of my vehicle’s velocity. That’s dangerous because I can’t be looking in every direction at once. There’s every opportunity for a kid on a bike to come up to the stop sign when I’m looking in another direction. They might not slow down because they’re expecting me to stop. If I just roll on through, the best case scenario is I get their snot smeared all over the passenger window. The worst case scenario, well, let’s not finish that thought.

Oof, sorry for the downer ending. I’m actually really enjoying my driving lessons, but for some reason these articles tend to become very serious affairs. I guess for me there’s a very thin line between “Whee, I’m at the helm of a ton of metal!” and “Egad, I’m at the helm of a ton of metal!”

Ah I know, here’s a unicorn chaser: