Commuting in Houston: A Tale of Bitter Revenge
The hours I spent on California freeways, hot smoggy days steaming up and down 95 on the Eastern Seaboard, traversing the slippery, winding mountains gracing the chilly skies of British Columbia, and plowing the snow in South Dakota was not preparation enough for my Houston, Texas, morning commute.
Hateful and rude is simply an understatement, signal lights mean nothing, and the white alpha males flex their muscles in big pickups. After a few short weeks, I am sick of it all. Today I fired up my two seater, hit the streets at 5:30 am, and turned the Bose speakers up all the way loud: alternative rock, hip hop, and a couple of classic hits. Yesterday morning I was run off the road in my granny Toyota, after a mile of desperately blinking my left signal..."let me over please!" No one gave me an inch; I am sick of the rudeness.
Where are the cops? Not on my route. What has happened to driver education? What about simple human decency?
Almost everyday someone is killed in a car wreck in Houston. We have so many hit and runs most of them never make the news. Maybe Annise Parker, our honorable mayor, should begin a campaign of roadway kindness. Maybe she should provide a public service message explaining how our freeways are a bloodbath, and how our citizens are becoming heartless and cruel behind the wheel.
In the meantime, drive carefully and be courteous on the road.