The Snake Oil Almanac

I have a confession to make.
Lean in close, 'cause I'm still a little embarrassed.

I'm not a good driver.

I know, I know. For a guy in this society, and especially this state, that's pretty much like admitting I prefer the way women's underwear cup my butt,but without eliciting the same level of understanding.

It's not something that's been really easy to accept.

When I first got my license, I figured it was just a matter of time before someone saw the way I maneuvered through city streets on two wheels and called NASCAR. (Or the cops.)

Of course, I assumed at the time that I was a good driver. I was a great driver! I never got caught or smashed up my Dad's truck so badly he could figure out which dents were new. What more could society want?

Well, (luckily), time has passed.

The realization I have almost no talent as a motor vehicle operator has slowly sunk through my skull. There are undoubtedly dogs, cats, and even some exceptional houseplants that would make better drivers. When I'm not spilling a soda down my shorts in traffic, I am usually occupying my flickering attention span with what I'll do when I get out of the car. So far, my reactions have been quick enough to avoid the deer/mysterious box/oncoming car in front of me.

This is not to say you should immediately say a prayer and steer on to the sidewalk if you see me on the road. Coming to terms with the fact that I make a better passenger has probably saved my life, and maybe yours.

I haven't had a ticket in more than nine years, and haven't wrecked in five.
I carry insurance on my vehicle, something I didn't always do.
I almost never try to steer with my lips while I do something else with my hands.
I have accepted the fact that Al Unser is not keeping an eye on me.

And though this admission will not score points with the guys at NAPA, it may be what keeps their 1967 Mustang in one piece.

You see, this is not merely a confession, but a call for action.
To the driver who didn't give an inch for the cyclist last week.
To the ones who didn't take the time to scrape the frost off of windshield.
For those that sped to work today and were still late.

Stand up and be counted! You're not alone. You too can take the time to give a shit about the rest of us on the road.

It can't be too difficult if I can pull it off.

-Brian Taylor, Nov. 2000