Having found myself on the receiving end of angry honks of late while driving, I must say this to the honkers.
Are you people nuts? You want me to drive faster? Please consider the following.
I’m a geezer. I used to stand 5’6”. Now, I’m more like 5’4” on a good day. I can barely see over the steering wheel. I’d be sitting on a stack of fat phone books to drive if I could find any.
I’ve got a cataract in my right eye, which can cause driving problems. For one thing, I have trouble making out objects in shadows. For example, consider Thunder River Market at the Colorado Mountain College turnoff on Highway 82. In the shadows under the fuel pumps’ roof, cars look like ghosts — dark cars are almost invisible. For cars moving about in the sun, it’s like they are lit up like an escaped convict in a police searchlight. The interface of shadows and sunlight is a particular danger zone. (Advice: If you see me in the Thunder River Market parking lot, give me a wide berth. You won’t be sorry.)
My 2010 Honda CR-V is low on steering fluid these days. This makes maneuvering the thing difficult in some cases. It’s like trying to steer a 1953 Buick in the pre-power steering days, which is akin to attempting to parallel park during my drivers license test 60 years ago. I flunked the parallel parking part and blame my dad for not ordering power steering on our 1965 Pontiac LeMans, which had bucket seats and three on the floor.
And then there is parking itself, specifically at the Carbondale post office. You know the one. It features a pothole the size of a manhole cover, smack dab in the middle of the exit (which has thankfully been fixed since this column was penned). My head swivels around like an owl for about a minute before backing up because I don’t want to back into a car (again), which would cause my insurance to soar and force me to sell my car and rely on the Traveler van to schlep me around Glenwood for rest of my miserable life.
Continuing on the parking front, when parking “straight in” — like at the Cowen Center — I’m sometimes off kilter and nose in my car at about a 13-degree angle. So don’t bad vibe me when you notice the bad parking job. What’s it to ya, anyway?
Back to driving examples, specifically the intersections of Ninth and Tenth and Bennett in Glenwood Springs. Driving north on Bennett, there are no stop signs at either intersection. So, I slow down to about five miles per hour as I look left and right approaching the intersections, then look left and right again as I carefully creep through. What do you angry honkers want me to do? Roll through those intersections at the posted speed limit or faster, barely glancing left and right, like you do? Well, you angry honkers are nuts (as we established in the second paragraph).
Some of the angry honker crowd, like those leaving the Cowen Center in Carbondale, are particularly irritating. I safely make the turn onto Highway 133 after looking left and right two or three times. Motorists behind me follow so close it’s like they are trying to climb into my trunk. Then, once we enter Highway 82 to head downvalley, some swerve into the left lane, give me an angry honk, and speed away like they are running from a mob. (Note: An angry honk is one that lasts three or more seconds.)
Recently, somebody double honked me for the first time. This occurred as I tried to merge onto westbound I-70 from Silt. My 2010 Honda CR-V is physically incapable of accelerating from zero to 60 in four seconds, which displeased the jerk behind me, who was obviously not of the ilk to slow down and let mergers in at a safe speed. I suspect the double-honker became enraged because he had to tap his brakes then reset his cruise control at 85mph as soon as he roared past me.
Wrapping up, if I annoy you angry honkers for driving slowly, you should see me in the City Market checkout line.