Driving us Bonkers

Mike's been on a mini-break, which inevitably involves driving, which inevitably brings on a mini rant: 

Mike:

Generally, when I drive around Britain—unless I am in a location I know intimately—I am accompanied by the vague, yet persistent feeling, that I am lost.  This, generally, is because I am.  And the reason is the road marking.

Driving in Britain is always more difficult than in the US, because they don’t automatically assume you’re a moron here.  In the US, signs are everywhere: US 9 North, turn lane only, US 9 North next junction, Right Lane for County Route 25 Only, US 9 North use Left Lane only, US 9 North Turn here, This is County Route 25 East, You Missed the US 9 North turn you idiot, Denny’s 3 miles.  However, I think the Ministry of Traffic Signs is giving the public in general, and me in particular, a lot more credit than we deserve; when I am driving on unfamiliar roads in an unexplored part of the country, I appreciate being treated like a moron.

The absence of this forest of signs makes the scenery in Britain undeniably more fetching, but it also means I am continually lost.  Never mind that I often get one chance to notice and react to a sign in order to get on the road I want, often, those signs are painted on the road surface, which makes reading them in bumper-to-bumper traffic difficult.

I wish I had a tuppence for every time I have been driving happily down a road only to find I am suddenly in a turn-only lane and diverted off into an industrial estate.  Even when I do manage to get into the correct lane on a round-about, I frequently find it swapped out from beneath me: I may have entered the round-about in the A449 lane but I then find myself on the M3 heading for London and I have no idea how.

Now I am the last person to suggest we should clutter up England’s green and pleasant land with road signs, but a hint of where I am and where I am heading now and again would really be appreciated.  Or at least stop diverting me into industrial estates. 

Toni:

I have to disagree with Mike about the simplicity of signage in the States. Yes, there are tons and tons of road signs, but they don't exactly make navigation any easier. Take Chicago for instance; if I want to drive to a northern suburb, I need to know the names of the roads in that suburb. The signs on the freeway never actually tell you that you're approaching Winnetka, ( a northern suburb) just that the next exit is Willow (Road) or Lake. So unlike driving around London, with its helpful signs for Balham, Clapham or Stoke Newington, all we get are street names. Oh yes, and the freeways themselves tend to have two nomenclatures - a number and a name. I-90 (Interstate 90) in Chicago for example, is also known as the Kennedy. I-94 is the Edens. We also have the Ike and the Dan Ryan but I can never remember what their numbers are. It's as if everyone's in on a secret as far as roads are concerned.

Even more confusing is the fact that you’re setting off to drive 20 miles south of Chicago, but the road you follow is actually saying “Memphis”, which is a tad further than you need by about 7 hours. Again, no mention of the suburb of your choice. You will however, be totally confused by the amount of signs hanging from every bridge across the freeways. By the time you’ve found the one you want, you’ve missed it and the next exit is 25 miles away.

And I’m not the only one who thinks this – read this hilarious article about America's worst road signs.

MidWeek Mention - How Americans See Themselves

Just thought you'd love this map. We found it on an interesting blog called The Quiet Rage.

It's called - "How Americans See Themselves".

Click map for larger image.

Looking Back

Patriot's Day.  Ten years on.  Our remembrances.


Toni:

9/11, as it’s now known, was a chilling and terrible day in the USA. I knew immediately that the first plane to hit the Towers could not have been accidental. Not a plane that size. Perhaps that’s because I lived and worked in London in the 80’s where the streets were cordoned off on a weekly basis, and every time your tube train stopped in a black tunnel, there was instant unease all around. I knew terrorism when I saw it. Part of the horror in the US was the utter disbelief that anyone could do so much harm to so many people - deliberately.

My heart bleeds for the families of everyone who died on that awful day ten years ago.
And yes, the country came together under the leadership of George Bush. I’ll never forget his message – “And we will pursue nations that provide aid or safe haven to terrorism. Every nation in every region now has a decision to make: Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.”

I’ll be honest, I was really pissed off with those words! This from the country that had not only embraced the IRA, but Noraid, its US funding arm, was a registered charity in the USA. Bush declared the beginning of the “war on terror” as if Baader Meinhof, ETA, the UDA and the IRA (to name but a few) had never existed. America’s “war on terror” immediately became a global call to arms.

I’m sure it was thoughtlessness on the part of George Bush but on behalf of everyone who’d ever lived in the shadow of terrorism, I was insulted.


Mike:

I was on-line booking a flight when news of the first airplane hitting the towers popped up. It caused concern, but not much; I had read accounts of the airplane that had hit the Empire State Building, and I assumed this was something similar—an inexperienced pilot in a small aircraft. The Empire State Building had survived, so would the tower.

Still, a disquiet grew inside me. I abandoned the transaction (and never went back to it—I decided to drive) and waited. For what, I didn’t know. For the Doctor to come back with the results saying it isn’t cancer after all? For the news that a loved one who had been in an accident was, in fact, all right? I suppose I was waiting, anticipating that most American of results: don’t worry; everything is going to be all right.

But it wasn’t. As more news filtered in it became clear the damage was extensive and that many people had died, or were about to. Then the second plane hit and I—along with many other Americas—finally accepted the fact that this was not a horrific catastrophe, but an organized attack, and that the future was suddenly a very different, and scarier, place.

I watched the towers fall with my co-workers, watched their tears, felt the emptiness inside, sat at my desk, numb. When we were sent home I drove through eerily empty streets and arrived home to more horrific news.

In the days that followed, I would sit on my balcony, watching in the distance where airliners used to crease the sky with jet trails as they landed or took off from Albany airport. But the sky remained empty, a vacant reminder of the tragedy. For days, I saw nothing, then a single plane took off, and I wondered if things were, at last, beginning to get back to normal.

The plane flew fast, much faster than a commercial jet. It rose sharply, made a series of tight circles in the sky, then landed. It was, I realized , a military fighter jet, and I wondered, if this was the new reality.

But that’s just my story; there are billions of others.