A bend in the road rules

By Cletus Bianchi

I drive a lot for someone that doesn’t drive for a living, partially because of our rural address, but mostly because we like to go a lot of places. Windshield time is not wasted time for me. It’s time to see things I’ve never seen before, sometimes on roads I’ve traveled all my life. It’s time to think, especially when all of my passengers are sound asleep.

Or it can be a time to visit with few interruptions. I’ve covered everything from marriage plans to marriage counseling, from trout tactics to hunting stories, from outlining social ills to solving universal problems, and fallen in and out of love, all while holding a steering wheel.

I have always liked to ‘go.’

The Texas Department of Public Safety’s rules and regulations were very important to me as a novice driver. My concern was not so much for my safety, the safety of other drivers or the risk of citations, as it was for fear my parents would take the keys away.

I suppose it’s just a red-blooded American thing, but getting a driver’s license is a significant coming-of-age point in a young man’s life. Both Detroit and Hollywood bank on that simple fact. Age or condition really doesn’t matter when it comes to first cars. We can find a way to personalize nearly anything with four wheels.

First, there was just cruising on any given night. Seems every small town, whether it has a stop light or not, has a Dairy Queen parking lot that is the turning point on the main drag. Windows down, stereo cranking, maybe with your girlfriend or your running buddies…just cruising.

Later there was something we liked to call the ‘dilly-dally.’ Take a couple of fellas, a pick-up truck, a cooler, some sleeping bags, and a gas credit card and your weekend was set. Note there was no need for a map. Why use a map when you could accidentally wander into London, Telegraph, Dime Box, Fedor, Langtry, or Petersville? Friendly folks, lots of folklore, unique beer joints and secret swimming holes made Sunday evening come much too soon.

Then there was the motorcycle phase. Two wheels and no windshield just make you feel like a part of the road. Of course, you have to ride like you’re invisible to avoid actually becoming a part of the road under someone else’s vehicle. And raindrops and grasshoppers are like bullets. But, the freedom was always worth the risk for me.

With increased age and responsibility, I noticed a trend away from the dilly-dally more toward the ‘destination’ form of travel. Just as there were no rules or routes for dilly-dallying, destination travel was completely fenced in by them.

Rule No. 1 – no left turns or crossovers. Anything you might possibly need for the trip – gas, food, toilets – must be found on the right side of the road. The hamburgers on the right side are just as good as the ones across the interstate. And besides, they are on this side, which better facilitates travel time.

Rule No. 2 – traffic in major cities must be avoided at all costs. Even if it means leaving at 3 a.m., morning rush hour must be skirted. Sitting in traffic is a serious blow to travel time.

Rule No. 3 – statistics are crucial. Not even baseball can match the importance of travel statistics. Miles per gallon and per fill-up are important benchmarks. Traffic, the number of stops, and crossing over are serious detriments to average speed. Return trips mean there is a historical precedent, a ‘best time ever’ to chase. I frankly don’t know whether ego or limiting the time spent with two small children in the back seat is a greater motivator.

Rule No. 4 – use cruise control. Why can’t everyone use cruise control? Is there anything worse than being on a winding two-lane behind someone that speeds up in the passing zones and slows down everywhere else? Don’t they understand how that messes up statistics? Aaarrrggghh!!

Rule No. 5 – maps yes, asking for directions, no. One important reason not to ask for directions is that there’s no guarantee the guy behind the counter at the convenience store has any better idea where you’re headed than you do. Another reason is that it wastes time. Cell phones have significantly reduced the need to stop and ask for directions. Some cars are now even equipped with GPS mapping.

Rule No. 6 – road block. If a man’s home is his castle, then his toilet is his throne. Travel restrooms are only for extreme emergencies. Once a room has been purchased, such as a motel room, then territoriality has been established and use is permitted. That’s one reason return trips are usually a little quicker. Let’s face it, we never learned to hover at an early age and we’re not about to try.

Rule No. 7 – the driver has full control of all systems, including radio and temperature. That authority extends to behavior modification as well, especially toward passengers that are offspring. "Don’t make me have to stop this car!" sends the appropriate chill up the spine of any youngster that has an inkling of the importance of travel time.

In recent years, I have found myself less concerned with the rules and statistics. Dilly-dallies are less spontaneous now…seems funny to schedule ‘wasted time’, but that’s just where we are in our lives.

I have learned that GPS navigation systems are programmed to follow the rules and less likely to pick the road less traveled. I have learned that there are some pretty neat things on the other side of the highway and that buying the hamburger most requested by the passengers also buys less stressful miles ahead.

I have learned that our kids like some of my music and that I like some of theirs; and if we carry a blanket or two, everyone can be comfortable and happy.

I have found that we never get lost, but we sure find some interesting ways to get where we’re going. I have learned that allowing ample time and easing along at the speed limit saves fuel, money and stress. I have found I can learn much more than directions from some of the people I meet along the way.

Perhaps most importantly, I have learned that our kids like to ‘go’ just as much as me if I let them explore a little while we’re at it. There’s still plenty I can see and learn and experience with just a little prodding from the back seat.

But there’s no compromise on Rule No. 6.

(click here to read archived columns by Cletus Bianchi)