I recently watched a show on The Learning Channel called “The Ultimate Driving Test,” a program that quizzed my knowledge about what I should do if my car got caught in the middle of a police shoot-out or dangled from a bridge by one wheel. For example, did you know that if a road raged driver gets out of his car and jumps on the hood of your car, you are NOT supposed to hit the gas pedal and fling him off? The correct answer is to wait patiently until he calms down and leaves. Booooring! Wegzfucius says, “hit the gas.”
After all these extreme scenarios, I determined I probably would have died many deaths, especially since my answer to most life-threatening situations was “Turn up the radio.” Here is what I do know about driving an automobile: if you push the go-pedal, the car moves; if you push the other pedal, the car stops; if you hit a pedestrian, you get 100 points. Ha, ha, just kidding. Pedestrians are only worth 50 points.
Other things I know: there comes a time (like when the engine does not start) when the car needs to be filled with a combustible liquid called gasoline; every three months the engine needs to be lubricated by the men at Jiffy-Lube, which is not nearly as sexy as it sounds; also, a car’s tires and breaks should be in proper working order, especially during moments of adverse weather conditions. During one snowy day last month, I enjoyed relinquishing control of my life to icy physics as my car explored the possibility of driving sideways down Skinker.
In this uncertain time as George W. Bush straddles a missile in the Oval Office and spanks it with his cowboy hat and as patriotic restaurants across the country change their menus from French fries to Freedom fries (and if you know a dog breeder who is selling Freedom poodles, let me know), the pulse of America’s political sentiments can be felt on its bumper stickers. Will you slap an American flag on the bumper of your car, or how about a sticker admonishing an attack on Iraq? I recently slapped a bumper sticker on my car to express my political feelings. The sticker says “Soylent Green Is People!” because, frankly, I do not support government-sanctioned cannibalism. And I saw a great bumper sticker the other day. It said, “Gay Whales For Jesus.”
I spent my first two years at Wash U car-less, bumper sticker-less, and filled with rage; I wasn’t filled with rage because I was car-less, I was filled with rage because I was living in Liggett and Eliot Halls. St. Louis can be unforgiving for its automobile impaired citizens. Not that downtown “ghost town” St. Louis needs a subway-once I was downtown and I saw a tumbleweed trying to flag down a taxi to get outta town. Har de har har.
In other woes, transport by the Wash U shuttles can be tricky, especially when you’re trying to run after the Medical School shuttle on Waterman Blvd. When it speeds off, it is so difficult to look hip standing in the middle of the street, waving your arms above your head screaming expletives; so if a Wash U shuttle strands you looking foolish in the middle of the street, pretend that you’re praying to God or Allah or Gay Whales for Jesus or George W. Bush dropping from the sky on his Big Boom Buddy.
I am lucky to own and drive a car and pollute the air and consume fossil fuels and contribute to burning tire piles. And thanks to “The Ultimate Driving Test,” I know that the answer to surviving an explosion in a tunnel is not to “Turn up the radio” -unless, of course, it’s a really really good song; if Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” is on the dial when that tanker explodes, I’ll be charred dog meat, a Freedom-fried Freedom poodle.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 18th, 2003 at 12:00 pm and is filed under Cadenza. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.