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Steve Edwards' website


A guilty disgust with Irish driving skills


One indicator of the skill of a driver is the extent to which he or she turns the steering wheel in a tight spot.

The only logical method is to crank it all the way.

While it may be safer to limit the speed of the vehicle, there is no reason to limit the extent to which you crank the steering wheel.

It's not safer. It's just tedious.

Irish drivers can be ponderous and tedious.

This even sometimes makes me angry, which is irrational — and t's a guilty anger, too, because the Irish drivers are excessively polite. But when I see bad sometimes I get angry.

I guess I just don't like to see incompetence — and I don't feel rude for calling it that. But maybe, mostly, I just don't like unawareness of space.

Example: I want to cross the street. I calculate the trajectories of the cars coming each way, and it's upon my knowledge of these trajectories that I move. In Ireland, it's just as likely as not that the guy on the far side of the road is going to stop for me. I don't want that; was not planning on it — and it does not help me at all. In fact, now here I am standing in the middle of a busy street, half inclined to tell the bastard he can keep going, please.

No good to me.

But the worst part, for me, is getting angry when I merely happen to see crappy driving that really should not affect me. It pisses me off, just to watch it; then I feel guilty. I don't know why I watch — it's like a dark attraction.

When I see a driver — especially in a good car — tediously, carefully, thoughtfully negotiating a corner, or spending minutes performing a simple parking operation, I get disgusted. I don't know why. Especially when it's with that sound, that low-level rev, a careful, tedious, tentative move into a route that is clearly safe....

Slow, slow, slow... there's nobody in the way. The space is all yours....


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