Entries in Brakes (3)
“AND IN THE OTHER CORNER….” WEIGHING IN ON RED LIGHT CAMERAS
There is almost nothing about driving that doesn’t send a bee up somebody’s butt. Below is a small list of sites and blogs from the polar extremes of the RLC issue. They are provided not for any relation they may have to driving like ass but, as they say, “as a contribution to the literature”, such as it is.
FOLLOWING DISTANCE AND RED LIGHT CAMERAS
Coming to an intersection near you, the nemesis of evil-doers and ass-like drivers everywhere—the Red Light Camera—wants to take on Massachusetts’ driving anarchy. Drivinglikeass.com thinks it hasn’t got a prayer.
On the issue of red light cameras (RLC), the opposing teams line up like this: For? Insurance companies and highway safety organizations, a few revenue-strapped municipalities, and camera system vendors. Against? Just about everybody else.
Nonetheless, State Rep Kevin Honan of Brighton has introduced two bills that would allow cities and towns in Massachusetts (H.3512) and Boston and Cambridge (H.3513) to deploy “traffic control signal violation monitoring system devices as a means of promoting traffic safety.” At first blush, this sounds like a real winner: using technology to nab traffic scofflaws, anywhere, 24-7. But, once again, technology and logic will remain powerless against the innate obduracy of driving like ass.
FOLLOWING DISTANCE: HOW CLOSE IS NOT CLOSE ENOUGH?
Driving in Boston means driving like ass…and driving like ass means you can never be too close.
THE CHALLENGE The distance drivers allow between one moving car and another is generally referred to as “following distance” and this is how it works in Boston.
Many years ago, I was driving on 2A approaching the Fresh Pond rotary behind some sort of way-cool, Mustang Shelby GT that was tailing a mammoth, early 70’s Cadillac El Dorado at the rage-provoking distance of about 14 inches when the Cadillac came to a stop that must have set some sort of record for distance and the amount of tire tread it left on the road. Needless to say, the Shelby’s reaction time was not up to the challenge. Nor were its grill, radiator, and hood, the latter of which actually detached itself from the car body and—kite-like—sailed off onto the sidewalk. The enraged driver, replete in reflective Ray Bans and a Shelby’s Member’s Only jacket, was out of his car in a flash, explicatives flying, charging the Cadillac which, largely because its gross curb weight in excess of 18 tons, appeared to have suffered nary a scratch. When the Cadillac’s driver emerged, not much smaller than his car and sporting at least two acres of tattoos under his Harley t-shirt, I decided the requisite exchange of papers was not going to be pretty and, having a fair idea of how it would end, I decided keep moving, thankful that it was not I who had been driving like ass.