Written by evan keliher

Sunday, 8 June 2008

image for Grandpa Ganja On Traffic

Look, the traffic problem is getting out of hand and something needs to be done about it. The time for talk is long past; it's time for action. Since no one else is doing anything about it, I've decided to fix it myself.

So what is the problem? Easy. There are too many cars on too few freeways. It's that simple. Even public officials can understand it if they really concentrate. Solution? Equally simple. Either build more freeways or get rid of some of the cars.

There. Have you ever seen an analysis of the problem so penetrating, so cogent?

Okay. Do we build more freeways? No, for a lot of reasons. First, I'm seventy-six and it takes years to build a decent freeway. By the time they get enough new freeways I'll be deader than a mackerel and unable to drive on them. Besides, they cost a fortune and my taxes would soar and I'd have to economize by smoking a cheaper brand of cigar and posing an even greater threat to my fellows than I presently do.

So, already we've reduced a dilemma to a single horn and I've only been on the job for a few minutes. See what one can do when one applies oneself? That means we must reduce the number of cars on our freeways and thereby solve our problem expeditiously and cheaply.

Let's consider some alternatives. We can start by raising the driving age to, say, twenty-one. This would help in several ways. There must be at least a million people between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one so right away you'd have a million fewer cars on the road.

What's more, young drivers cause a disproportionate number of accidents so accidents would decline precipitously. And so would insurance rates. Just think how much money parents would save if they didn't have to pay exorbitant insurance rates because they have young drivers in the household?

Well, you say, how would these young people get to the beach or entertain themselves with drag races through residential neighborhoods? They wouldn't. They'd have to stay in nights and do their homework and illiteracy rates would fall all over the state.

See how simple it can be?

Here's another idea. Get all the old fogies off the road. Make everybody over, say, 80 pass a test. Demand that they be able to see-and see over the steering wheel and not through it. And check their reflexes. Flunk anybody who can't move his hand faster than the windshield wipers set on the slowest speed.

(As it happens, I wouldn't need such a test. I know I'm not as quick as I used to be but you should have seen me last week. I was razor sharp then, fast on my feet and as nimble as the Indian Rubber Man. I can still parallel park a 20-foot long Escalade in a 20-foot-6 inch space and do it on the first try, too.)

Another idea. Ground everyone who can't speak English and we'd take a third of the state off the roads overnight. Go a step further and ground everyone who can't speak English correctly and we'd get rid of millions more.

Okay, so there are a few faultfinders out there who'll claim these rules are too harsh or they're violating somebody's civil rights or whatever, so I've saved the best for last. This one absolutely brilliant idea will truly solve the state's enormous traffic problems and do it quickly and efficiently-and fairly.

All we have to do is jerk the license of everyone who is a certifiable idiot!

How simple! And how easy to implement. Tailgating? Grab his license. Drunk driving? He's automotive history. Women trying to parallel park? Make them pedestrians. Speeding? Ground 'em. Playing the car radio at a thousand decibels with the windows down? Squealing the tires from a standing start? Failing to complete a left turn within ten minutes after all visible traffic has cleared? Car phone in one hand, coffee in the other and steering with an elbow? Throw away their licenses!

We all know idiots are everywhere and they're a threat to everyone else's sanity and physical safety. Let's get them off the road and give the freeways and streets back to the good guys like me-and you, of course.

©Evan Keliher

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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