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The Dukes of Hazard
Not Luke or Bo
When I say "Dukes of Hazard," I'm not
referring to the good ol' boys who conduct themselves recklessly in the General Lee.
I'm referring to the Royal Retards of the Road – people who can't
seem to keep their loads properly contained. Well, I suppose I am referring to
the good ol' boys if they in fact had a moonshine still poorly strapped to the top
of their car with a pair of Daisy Duke's nylons.
Why I'm Here
After
watching an incredible amount of crap fly out of some guy's poorly secured load (and
chasing him down to shake my fist at him), I
took a greater interest in the hazards on our freeways. Since I'm online all day and
have the CHP site up whenever my computer's on, I just started tallying all the
hazards. There's nothing systematic about what I've done. When I see it, I tally it.
Fabulous Day for a Stroll Along the Freeway
It's not much of a shock that pedestrians would rank high. You're probably thinking
that a lot of cars break down and people are trying to get somewhere, right? Not
really. I didn't record any of the incidents where they indicate that a car was
nearby or ones where the person is carrying a container (probably out of gas). Often the pedestrian is
noted as doing something weird. In one case, dispatchers specified that
an armless male was walking next to the freeway. Here are some other classic
examples of life on the highspeed open roads (all non-fiction):
• Elderly male walking black lab in center divider
• Male wearing trash bag
• Man in tan shorts, orange floppy hat with hand weights running on right side
• Elderly male wearing high heels and
women's clothing
• Woman dancing in slow lane in front of headlights
• About 20 immigrants running around freeway (counted as 1 bipedal hazard)
• Man has his penis hanging out of his pants and waving and smiling at traffic
Entirely Tired of Tires
As for the high tire and tread count, semis have a lot of wheels, wheels which
probably aren't individually checked with enough frequency. Underinflated tires get
really hot and then they explode, leaving large carcasses that are easily made
airborne by others of the same species that left them behind. We recently had a
tire tread kicked up at our van by a semi. Chris was snoozing and I was driving; the
tread hit us with such force that Chris thought I had rear-ended someone. It
shattered the windshield, bent the bumper, twisted the antenna, dented the front
panels, and ended up being a few thousand dollars' worth of damage.
Shouldn't That Be in the Living Room and Not in Lane 2?
I grouped furniture together (with the exception of mattresses, which so deserves
its own hall of fame) because it's important for that number to shine, as furniture is
something every sod with a car inevitably tries to
perch on the roof and tie down
with twine. And what happens? Yup, that couch, that desk, that chair ends up in lane
#2 with cars doing last-second slaloms around it. Next time stick to the surface streets, ok?
Road debris is a hazard for cars, but potentially lethal for motorcyclists. Nothing
chaps my hide like seeing shit on the freeway that I know some jackass couldn't be
arsed to tie down with some care.
Epilogue
I recorded these hazards for one full month.
What I noticed near the end of this exercise was that I was getting increasingly
paranoid. Along with all the collisions and debris, there were plenty of logs about
motorcycle riders being down and bleeding or run over or dead or all of the
preceding. I couldn't help but wonder what happened, who was at fault, and could it
happen to me the next time I went out. If you ride a motorcycle, you can't think
this way. Like a person who watches horror movies in spite of the fact it gives him
bad nightmares, I must fight the urge to keep visiting the CHP site or the demons of
doubt will start polluting my world. What will be the methadone alternative for the
CHP site so I can taper off? Perhaps more episodes of COPS where the car
chases/wrecks are more carefully metered out to viewers? Whatever it is, I gotta
kick this voyeuristic habit before I sell all my bikes and buy the largest rolling
land whale possible to ensure my safety on these mean streets of ours.
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