More Rules of the Road. Newer. Little. Yellow. Better. Like Nuprin. (Whatever happened to Nuprin, anyway?)

Rules of the Road, Revisited - When one commutes, one has a great deal of time to observe those around one, often leading one to hold interesting, one-sided conversations in one’s mind about what one…wait, which one?  I forget. Any way… I drive a lot. I think we’ve established that. Previously I had published fifteen rules of the road that one… you, I, whatever… must follow, lest he/she/we/you/I/that guy be subjected to public humiliation and ridicule, including but not limited to flogging with footwear, Gypsy curses, and/or revocation of Man Card benefits. (Sorry for all the “including but not limited to, and/or” stuff. Sometimes the lawyer in me just comes out. I usually shut him up with some scotch, but that’s generally frowned up during the lunch hour.)

In any event…

As I continue with my daily expeditions through western New York (Rochester, incidentally, is not nor will ever will be “upstate,” so don’t even go there. Albany is upstate. Watertown and the Adirondacks are upstate. Lake George is upstate. Buffalo and Rochester are western. There will be a quiz later. What was I saying? ) Oh! Right. Daily expeditions. Yes, as I travel, I am constantly surveying my surroundings and the other drivers that occupy them. Sadly, such examination leads me supplement, append and amend my earlier list of Rules of the Road, thusly:

16.       Dude, if you’re going to sport a mullet that epic, and I do mean EPIC, like, Joe Dirt epic, you have to roll down the windows and let that baby fly. Style like that doesn’t deserve to be caged. In fact, you should drive a purple El Camino with a filled kiddie pool in the bed. Business in the front, party in the back!

17.       If you truly feel compelled to listen to Call Me Maybe while driving, (and yes, my ears are ringing just from writing the words), you are hereby instructed to roll up your windows and reduce the volume until the song, and I use that word lightly, is over, so that no one else must suffer. If you do not, well, being caught listening to that song in public is humiliation enough, I suppose.

18.       Seriously, with the license plates.  In the past couple of weeks I’ve seen an Audi A6 with a plate that says “NAUDIBOY.” Don’t even get me started on Mr. “IM4YANKS” and Mr. “WHODISBE.” As my literary idol Dave Barry would say, I swear am I not making this up. I wish I was. No man card for you! You come back one year, when registration expires! Now get off road!

19.       NO FEET ON THE DASHBOARD OR OUT THE WINDOW. Especially if your feet are dirty. Really. Blech. no one likes soiled toes. I remind you: Flogging. Birkenstocks. Stay with me, people.

20.       If you are passed by someone, and there is no other car behind that someone, and then they pull in front of you and go so slow you have to hit your brakes, you are permitted to: a) tailgate them until you are able to pass; b) pass them; and 3) stay in the passing lane until you reach an even slower moving vehicle in the travel lane, match their speed and stay right beside them until Slowpoke McGee pulls behind you and gets frustrated at your lack of speed. At this time, you may also invoke Rule Number 1 and then accelerate to an acceptable speed.

This public service announcement has been brought to you by the fine travelers of the New York State Thruway, and that guys that sells flowers at the gas station. I approve this message. God bless America. God save the Queen. And Queen. I love Bohemian Rhapsody. Which you are instructed to play and play loud. Call that Rule 20(c)(4)(ii).

© J.J. Goodman 2012. All rights reserved.