Zoomers

I grew up in Louisiana and got my driver’s license at age fifteen, which means I have been driving a very long time. Traffic in the small-town South is almost non-existent. Mostly you have to look out for fearless toddlers on trikes, stray chickens, and erratic grandmas.

The traffic and rules of the road in and around a big city are a whole lot more complicated. This became clear to me about thirty years ago, when I moved to Houston. First of all, most people, especially the male of the species, think posted speed limits are merely suggestions, and lame ones at that. They created the +20 rule. It is understood that the true speed limit is at least twenty miles per hour above whatever is posted. That 30 m.p.h. sign in the neighborhood secretly means 50. So look out all you toddlers, chickens and grandmas.

Now there are also those exceptional drivers that scoff at the +20 rule. They make their own rules. I call them Zoomers, but they fall into several categories.

Perhaps you have had this experience while driving. You glance in your rearview mirror and the horizon is clear. You take a moment to adjust the volume on the radio, and suddenly, in a blur, a low-flying object passes you with a whoosh of air that rocks your vehicle. Before you can say, “What the hell was that?” another one whizzes by. These are Doomer Zoomers chasing each other through the traffic. They enjoy the small pleasures in life, like testing out their engine capabilities, especially the 140 m.p.h. range, practicing their NASCAR moves on the general public, and smoking those small, handrolled cigarettes while they careen across four lanes on two wheels.

The Loomer Zoomers are wannabe Doomers, but due to tight traffic, they can’t get by you. Therefore, they tailgate at a comfortable distance of four inches. They particularly like to do this while you’re driving 70 mph. in a 50 mph. zone. Should you speed up, they reduce the distance to two inches. The shiny grill of their pickup trucks fills your back windshield. The roar of their motors overrides all other sounds. Certain that you could only wish for more intimacy, they like to pull over to the left and flash their lights to get your attention. As you gaze in your rearview mirror at their flushed faces, they speak to you, those articulate devils, in really creative language. They truly hope you can read their lips.

Ruder Zoomers are often the aforementioned Loomer Zoomers who manage to pass you AT LAST. To mark the moment, they roar by with a one-finger salute. They generally punctuate the air with it at least three times. They are really quite thoughtful. Just in case you couldn’t read their lips, they want to make the message absolutely clear.

The most generous drivers are the Boomer Zoomers. They want to share their love of music with everyone. And never mind your silly objections. To accomplish this, they install custom stereo systems which they set at the decibel level known as Annihilate. They certainly don’t want you to miss out on their choice of delightful tunes even if you’re a half mile away. They are convinced that those pulsing sound waves will stir your soul, recalibrate your internal organs, and damn well cure what ails you.
.
And, naturally, it’s the Boomer Zoomers who end up right behind you in the hour-long traffic jam caused by those Doomer Zoomers who, alack and alas, met their inevitable fates in a five-car pileup four miles up the road.