Drivinghood: North and South

When I was living on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and one of the incredibly insane owners of an automobile, I figured out that there was an unwritten, unspoken code shared by taxi drivers.

Taxi drivers own the streets of NYC. They know exactly how to navigate each pothole. They can tell Just how far any other vehicle is at anytime.

There are no lines on Madison Avenue (at least there weren't last time I drove in NYC). At least they are not painted lines. They are energetic lines.

Like meridians up and down the body (any fan of acupuncture knows what I am talking about), these lines keep everything in working order. And then there is the cooperation between each taxi driver, sharing this unwritten code, this brother- and sisterhood of maneuvering, watching out for one another. It is fast and furious but completely organized, and part of some zen-like flow that I am pleased to engage in. It's fun for me to figure out this code and ride the wave. And you become part of this Northern drivinghood yourself, with fraternite, egalite.

I am still trying to suss the code between pickup truck drivers here in the Deep South. There is one, that much I have figured out. Sometimes it involves ensuring that my little Honda does not get in front of them. There is nothing so grand as a Ram perched at the front of the lineup at a red light, especially one that has the satisfaction of having edged everyone else smaller than they out of the way.

This is different than the other lack of etiquette I experience from the SUV drivers. They like to bear down on us little vehicles, huge behemoths on my tail. But they also like to bear down on their own. No egalite, fraternite.

The trucks, they take care of each other. Just like the taxi drivers, they somehow work together so that they navigate traffic as a unit. Did I mention that there are sometimes as many pickup trucks on our roads as taxi drivers up Madison Avenue? Now just picture these trucks all travelling in symphony (Hmmmm. Trucks=symphony. This is a new one. Do we have something here?). They allow the other trucks to be part of their flow. They work in concert. (More musical references to trucks. I think I will get cussed out now.)

I have to figure out how to become part of that flow. How to cruise effortlessly through that little bottleneck on East North Street, the one right at Main Street, big red pickup on my right, big white pickup in front of me. Once I can determine the unspoken language of pickups, perhaps I can, in some small (read: Honda) way also become part of that great drivinghood of the South.