Camping (Driving) Downstate
“I’m gonna retire up
north and drive slow” – an old, but popular bumper sticker on cars
from south-eastern Michigan
We used to live in Oakland County, Michigan. We lived in and
around Pontiac and then Clarkston, Michigan, both suburbs in the automotive-dominated
area of Oakland County. The County was populous when we lived there, and it
seems to have grown further since my retirement. Since much of our family lives
there, we occasionally camp at Pontiac Lake Recreation Area. We camped there
last weekend and made two trips by car from the campsite to visit our family. On
both trips, the traffic was extraordinarily heavy, and people drove too fast for
my taste.
We enjoyed the wonderful fall weather during this, our last
campout for the season. The only negative to our trip was the required driving
to and from the campground. The traffic was horrendous. On each of the trips I
made by car, I had two impatient drivers blow their horns at me because I was
driving too slowly to suit them. This, in spite of the fact that the traffic
was so heavy none of us could make much headway. I soon learned that to drive
in Oakland County is to take your life in your hands. The traffic was so heavy I
was forced to merge into traffic in a space approximately one inch larger than
my truck. My strategy was to turn on my blinker, start to move to the next lane
and then close my eyes. I learned this technique from other drivers doing the
same. After returning to the campground, I met a man and asked him about changing
lanes. He said he didn’t know as he had never been able to change lanes in
normal daytime traffic. He said he once drove for two days straight because he
couldn’t change lanes to get to an exit.
Not satisfied with his answer, I asked another camper for
his advice in changing lanes. His advice was equally disconcerting. He said the
only thing that worked for him was to buy the car in the next lane.
On my second trip from the campground, I decided that the
appropriate driving technique was to ‘floor’ the accelerator after each stop,
and also wherever the stop light turned green, no matter what my speed was. This
strategy, of course, requires one to slam on the brakes whenever a red light
flashes. The strategy seemed to work; other drivers quit blowing their horns at
me, but my neck got tired from snapping back and forth with the brakes and
accelerator.
After our campout, I was happy to get home to my part of the
world where driving is much easier. We have less traffic and more patient drivers.
In fact, our drivers sometimes stop in the middle of the road if they need to.
Nobody cares.
I checked the internet to learn if others feel as I do about
driving in congested areas. I learned that I am not alone. One man said that
you can sit on congested highways forever. In fact, he said, some places have
exit ramps where you can pull over and make a car payment. Another man said
that congested highways have become insane asylums with turn signals. That
seems about right to me.
Now that I have finished this piece, I think I’ll go for a
drive and park on the road somewhere.
