As a newcomer to this state, perhaps you’ve been confused (and sometimes even terrified) by the behavior of Utah drivers? Well, relax, I can teach you the rules of the road, so that you can join in the chaos with confidence--and eventually learn how to confuse and terrify others.
First off, maybe you’ve heard that Utah drivers are the worst in the country. Not true! They’re actually the 3rd worst. They used to be the worst, a couple years ago, but chronic construction along the I-15 corridor has slowed things down a bit and skewed the statistics in our favor. Too bad for you, Alaska and Florida.
Secondly, don’t be fooled by the new bike lanes and light rail lines showing up around the state; Utahns won’t go anywhere without their cars. For example, most people live within about three blocks of the church they attend, but you’ll rarely see them walking that distance. Instead, they pile into giant SUVs, crank the air conditioner, and settle in for a tedious two-minute drive.
Did you know that using turn signals in Utah is optional and only rarely indicates that the driver is making a turn? Instead, a blinking tail light indicates one of two things: either the driver dropped something on the floor (usually a cellphone or a Chik-fil-a sandwich), and accidentally flipped the blinker on while trying to retrieve it; or that the driver is over the age of 85 and has no idea his turn signal has been blinking for the last 4 miles--although he does intend to turn, eventually, into a Chuck-a-rama parking lot for the early bird discount.
When people change lanes on Utah freeways, they have three options: first, the “gradual drift” where a spacey driver makes her choice of lane vague and mysterious; second, the “impulsive and panicky last minute lurch to an exit” that looks like a move from Mario Kart; and third, the “arrogant, multi-lane, accelerating veer,” usually executed by a young dude on a bullet bike or in oversized truck that emits impressive plumes of black smoke.
For a state that takes pride in its Christian values, Utah drivers are surprisingly impatient and competitive. A typical Utahn might do a bit of charitable ministering one minute, but as soon as he or she is back behind the wheel and approaching a four way stop or roundabout, they suddenly behave like an extra in a Mad Max movie. Ok, maybe they don’t use real flame throwers or hood-mounted harpoons, but they do become angrily self-righteous about deserving the right of way, they’ll lay on the horn for the slightest perceived offense, and they often act like a stubborn 5-year-old in disallowing others to merge into busy traffic.
Utahns are also highly distracted drivers. They know they’re not supposed to text and drive, of course, but they’ll still find ways to fiddle with their phones continually: checking Instagram likes, staring at their yard by yard progress on google maps, or taking selfies as they sip from a Sodalicious drink. Ironically, the only type of Utahn who always keeps his eyes on the road is that turn-signalling 85-year-old on the hunt for a Chuck-a-rama.
Drivers in Utah think they’re good at multi-tasking—applying makeup, shaving, or consuming complicated fast food while steering with a knee or elbow. Occasionally you’ll even see someone perform a triple-task in the commuter lane: squeeze ranch dressing onto a chicken wrap, search for a David Archuletta song, and apply mascara all at the same time. I know an Escalade driver from my neighborhood who can simultaneously hand out Happy meals, change the Pixar film in the DVD player—and make his own fry sauce from scratch—before he gets to the end of the on ramp at the start of a family road trip to St. George.
Finally, bumper stickers in Utah serve the same purpose as colorful markings in the animal kingdom: a warning that the contents may be toxic or distasteful. The number of stickers on the back of the vehicle, moreover, usually correlates with the driver’s degree of mental volatility. If you spot a vehicle festooned with slogans, try to assess the general tenor of the collection (right-wing rants and conspiracy theories? or braggy left-wing causes?) in case you have to exchange tense words with the driver after an awkward four way stop. That way you can redirect their anger with the correct brand of casual comment: “Hillary and that dang illuminati—am I right, or am I right?” or “Trump and that dang climate change—am I right, or am I right?”
I just pray that you never have to cross paths with the person driving a vehicle decorated with a single bumper sticker that says “I’m the proud parent of an honors student at the local junior high.” If they can be that shamelessly braggy to strangers, imagine what they’d be willing to share about their overachieving children with friends and family on Facebook and in Christmas letters? Those kinds of people shouldn’t even be allowed on the roads—am I right, or am I right?
Comments
Post a Comment