I earned my driver’s license in Montana at the age of 15 in the time when the daytime speed limit on open highways was “prudent and reasonable.” The law allowed state troopers to assess the condition of the automobile, road conditions, and the skill of the driver when deciding whether or not to impose a fine. Although they drove Ford LTD police interceptors with big block V8 engines and four-barrel carburetors capable of going over 100 mph, high speed chases were rare. Cars didn’t have cruise control and tires weren’t as reliable as is the case these days. Highway cruising was generally between 60 and 80 mph, similar to the speeds driven these days on Montana Highways. Then, when I was in college, the nationwide 55 mph speed limit came in. Montanans weren’t used to complying with that one, and most of them continued to drive well above the limit. The state imposed a $5 “Conservation Violation” fine for speeds in excess of 55 mph to comply with federal highway funding requirements. The fines could be paid in cash to the state trooper and weren’t recorded on one’s driving record. Technically they weren’t even a driving violation. People would get $20 in $5 bills and drive all the way across the state without paying attention to the limit. By the time we went to seminary, Montanans had a reputation for fast driving.

The whole issue didn’t affect me. I tended to drive cars that weren’t capable of going very fast. When we got married, I had a 1966 Opel Kadette with a 1.9 liter inline 4-cylinder engine. 55 mph was a pretty good clip for that car and we went up a lot of hills at a slower pace. We used to joke that driving the Opel was just like being on the German Autobahn: the other cars go by so fast that it seems like you are standing still.

Since those days, I have made jokes about the quirks of the drivers in the states where I have lived. In Chicago, in the days of Richard J. Daley, the rumor was that a man wearing a clerical collar might get pulled over, but would never be given a ticket, regardless of how fast he was going. I had seminary classmates who always wore a roman collar when commuting to their internships on the streets of Chicago.

In North Dakota, we joked that North Dakota drivers would go down the ramp to merge onto the Interstate and stop before pulling onto the highway before proceeding. Someone used to driving in North Dakota would probably starve trying to merge into traffic in an urban area. North Dakotans also wave at all other drivers, though you have to look closely to see the single finger raised at the top of the steering wheel.

When we moved to Idaho, we found ourselves among many libertarians, who questioned the authority of government, including the authority of government employees who painted stripes on the highway. Idahoans drive where they want on a road and don’t pay attention to lane markings. “I pay my taxes, so I’m entitled to half of the road. I’ll take the half I please!” Even in Boise, the state’s largest city, in the days we lived there, you had to watch for drivers who simply ignored the lane markings on the road.

Back in South Dakota, we discovered drivers who believe that a yellow light means “accelerate” and a red light means “no more than five or six more cars can go through the intersection.” In western South Dakota, we also had to deal with the large number of flatlanders from the eastern part of the state. Flatlanders are very afraid of winding roads, especially those with a bit of a drop off at the edge. They brake for the slightest curve. They would much rather die in a flaming head-on collision than slide off the edge of the road. They’d probably fit in in Idaho just fine.

I’ve been observing the drivers here in western Washington to figure out what jokes to make about them. One thing I’ve noticed is that despite the fact that there is plenty of urban driving around here, there are a lot of drivers who have no merge skills whatsoever. They are the opposite of North Dakotans waiting for their turn to drive on the freeway. If you are in the right lane where another lane merges into the freeway, expect the other drivers to simply pull into your lane as if you weren’t there. I’ve had to bake hard to avoid cars “merging” from the ramp. They’ll pull onto a 70 mph highway at 45 mph and take a mile to accelerate after getting into the driving lane.

Yesterday, I think I figured it out. Susan had a routine appointment at a doctor’s office. I went along with her. With covid precautions, I didn’t go into the building with her, but waited in the car during her appointment. As I sat in the parking lot, I observed at least a half dozen drivers who came out to their cars and backed out of their parking spaces without even looking behind their cars. Their heads were aimed straight forward as they backed up. I know that cars have rear view mirrors. I use my mirrors a lot. Trust me, those drivers, weren’t studying their mirrors. They were simply backing up without looking. It convinced me that simply ignoring other cars and other drivers is a common practice here. It’s easier to back up if you assume that there will be nobody in the space into which you are backing. It’s easier to merge if you assume that those other cars aren’t there. Heck, they’ll change lanes or slam on their brakes. They don’t want to be in an accident. Add to that a few Idaho drivers, visiting from out of state and perhaps one or two from the flatlands and one has to exercise a lot of caution when driving here.

Be careful out there. Those highways are dangerous. We count you as you leave and we count you as your return, always hoping for the same number.