ROAD TRIP | TRAVEL

How to Straddle Properly

The stealth highway heroine

It’s just my thing, to categorize drivers for ease of explanation.

Drifters, Straddlers, PopPops for the extra slow and cautious, Froggers for the drivers who constantly change lanes, and my all-time favorite, and most frequently used, Douche Bags for the morons who make a last-minute right turn from the far left lane.

I used to be most annoyed by drivers who straddle.

It’s bad enough when drivers drift, ever so slightly, and you think they are coming into your lane. Maybe you see them drift to the shoulder and you question if they are experiencing a medical episode as they overcompensate to right their car.

Doing makeup in the rearview, bending to the passenger seat to retrieve a rolling peanut M&M or awkwardly adjusting an undergarment can cause drifting. All understandable actions to a degree.

Obviously, I call them Drifters.

But Straddlers are an entirely different breed.

They will coast over the white divider line and won’t commit to any lane until they are sure which one is moving faster. They hedge their bets and meanwhile, the rest of us behind them are forced to stay back lest they choose our lane at the last second.

I thought this was exclusive to Florida drivers until I traveled 1000 miles through various states and witnessed this annoyance time and again.

Who straddles?

I do.

Or, I did, today.

And I loved every second.

I think it was so enjoyable because my approach was not a self-serving one at all.

I donned my invisible cape and morphed into the Highway Heroine.

I was aiding and assisting the masses. Really. By masses, I guess 50 or so cars would qualify, right?

I lost 3 hours sitting in traffic that was either at a dead stop or doing a slight roll forward. I knew there had to be something major that happened miles ahead of us but nothing was visible. I wasn’t angry; this was out of my control. Ian was good watching his DVD, I had plenty of provisions available and a full tank of gas.

I was minding my own business when I spotted a car or two cruising up the shoulder on my left.

Wait, what?

Four lanes are in total gridlock and these cars are going where? To get to the front? This road is already bloated to maximum capacity and they want to insist that having a second Thanksgiving-sized dinner will fit. There simply is no room, anywhere.

Horns are blaring, fingers are being shot right and left and gravel is getting kicked up at us. None of these actions is my style.

And then my epiphany struck like a bolt out of the blue.

I kept an eye out for more apparent royalty whose time was much more important than ours, the peasants that we must be.

I nosed the front of my Grand Cherokee into the shoulder reducing the ability to pass by half.

Yes, I straddled the yellow line.

The cars that came in random spurts were willing to side-swipe the guard rail or risk rolling over in the grass to bypass me. One lady gave up and scooched in behind me.

More horns, more fingers, and some additional arm-waving ensued each time.

A few more of these mini caravans of ne’er do wells made it by me before something beautiful unfolded before my eyes.

Unity.

Cars in front of me started to participate in my experiment.

One Soldier on the Streets actually parked, on Interstate 95 and got out with his dog. Unheard of and he will forever have hero status in my mind.

A few words were exchanged with the shoulder schmuck who couldn’t move while the dog freely roamed and did his business. It actually appeared to be non-threatening and just a matter of fact. We don’t need to be bullied.

Within the 3rd hour, an exit ramp became available and many of us retreated from the mission. I did so with grace and pride.

I had worn my cape well and the graduating class of Highway Etiquette did their part as dutiful students.

The first gas station was bursting, literally, with all the women who were begging their bladders to hang in there for just a few more minutes. I love this atmosphere and entertained them with my warmth and wit.

Who doesn’t like to laugh when it’s dangerously close to losing bodily functions?

I was still on my high, as Highway Heroine, until a woman asked if I had been in the same traffic jam as her.

I humbly tucked away my invisible cape and simply agreed that it was awful.

I shall remain stealth-like and do my good deeds when called upon.

No fanfare. No autographs. I waved as I walked away with my head held high.

My cape can rest now.

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