Thirty- something speaks
Driving us crazy or crazy driving us
Mike Maddock

Comedian George Carlin used to joke that people who leave their right turn signals on aren't actually forgetting to turn their turn signals off cluelessly causing chaos or ridicule from the cars traveling behind them, they're simply taking a right turn around the world, and the blinker is a way of politely making other drivers aware.

I'm afraid to say I've caught my turn signal on more than once and asked myself sheepishly, "I wonder how long that's been on?" Unfortunately, I've never taken a right turn around the world so I don't have that as an excuse, but I know someone who's giving it a shot.

My mom heard once that most accidents happen when turning left. I don't know if that's true, but I do know if I ever want to get somewhere with my mother in a timely fashion, I should drive. She refuses to turn left unless it's absolutely, 100% necessary. I was not aware of this new little idiosyncrasy until just recently, when a two- minute trip to the store took 20 minutes.

What should have been one quick left out of the driveway turned into a series of so many right turns that I felt more like the needle in an Etch- A- Sketch toy than a passenger in a car.

In order to avoid back- tracking we just drove to each block and turned right again and again and again. Eventually, we did reach the store, but I had the strange sensation that I was leaning left for the rest of the day.

We all have our strange little driving habits. My dad used to believe the bumps in the road separating the lanes on interstates had some kind of mystical power. He coached softball back in the 70s and thought if he could make it to a game changing lanes at least five times while never running over one single bump, then his softball team would win.

I'm not saying the bumps did have power, but my dad's team won the 1977 Alabama state championship. I don't think he hit a bump that year until the southeastern regionals in Florida when his team lost in the semifinals to the Tifton Tomboys. Interstates in Florida had more bumps, I guess.

I have a strange habit myself. I don't know why I do it or when exactly I started doing it, but it's kind of like that code the Lost Castaways had to enter into that old computer to keep the world from coming to an end. If I stop now, there's no telling what will happen.

What do I do?

I fake shoot yellow lights with my pointer finger. I'm pretty sure the universe would not come to a screeching halt if I stopped, but why take that chance?

My wife poses like a deer every time she passes a deer crossing sign. I have a friend that pushes on the ceiling with his right hand when he crosses under a bridge and stomps on the floorboard with his left foot every time he drives over a bridge. Another friend will slam on the brakes and turn his car completely around regardless of the amount of traffic backed up behind him to avoid the path of a black cat.

Maybe we've gotten so bored with driving we'll take any excuse to spice it up, or maybe my friends, relatives, and I are just a little bizarre. I don't know. However, I do know how many right turns it takes to get to the store, and no matter how many times I shoot a yellow light, it always turns red.