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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.
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