From: Nate Nagel on
On 04/22/2010 10:24 PM, Scott in SoCal wrote:
> Saw a scary sight this morning: I was driving along, minding my own
> business in the center lane (the right lane was about to end in an
> exit ramp; I was also gaining on a Sloth pickup truck which was in the
> right lane). Just then a big black Lexus GX 470 SUV being driven by a
> Joan-Jett-looking chick comes flying up behind me at Warp 9. Despite a
> wide open left lane, the driver changes lanes to the right, and then
> nails the brakes and starts tailgating the Sloth pickup. As I watch
> warily, the two of them pass the gore point of an on-ramp; Miss. GX
> cuts across the gore point and proceeds to try to pass the pickup
> using what's left of the on-ramp, but fails miserably. It was right
> about this time that I caught up to Miss. GX. As I passed by I looked
> over at her; she turned and made eye contact with me, and I started to
> laugh. She looked a little pissed off for some reason, and I'm sure my
> laughter didn't calm her down much either.
> Any chance she was so humiliated by her poor driving performance that
> she'll go take a Bondurant course or something? :)

I don't believe that there's a huge crossover between the people who
attend Bondurant and those that drive Land Cruisers with leather seats,
unless said glorified Yota is towing a Lotus or Formula Ford.


replace "roosters" with "cox" to reply.
From: Ad absurdum per aspera on

> I'm sure one morning I'll see a black GX 470 sitting upside-down in a
> roadside ditch. :)

Possibly deposited there by something that got into its tires in the
gore point and let the air out at a bad moment. Many gore points
tend to accumulate all sorts of small debris -- as do certain places
in the middle of intersections -- and don't necessarily get covered by
the street sweepers that conga-line down the freeway at off-peak hours
once in a while.

The sand barrels or other attenuators at some gore points also get a
workout -- often, I suspect, at the hands of somebody who had a
slightly too late change of heart about which way to go (or, worse,
dithered and ended up splitting the difference, not to mention
splitting the barrel).

Driving or better yet riding as a passenger along the freeway, it's
amazing how often you see the aftermath of that, or skidmarks that end
at a sharp angle in a pooched-out center-divide segment, or concrete
walls along the high side of a flyover ramp that are covered end to
end with smears of rubber and paint, and other evidence that somebody
had a probably avoidable and definitely car-redesigning encounter with
Large Things Other Than the Driving Surface.

If I had a dollar for every fool on the freeway it'd be my chauffeur's