I have this distinct memory from childhood: It's around 1968, and we're in the family VW van, somewhere in the West 40s in Manhattan, probably headed toward the Lincoln Tunnel. Traffic has come to a stop for longer than the length of a red light. So everyone in their cars did what drivers always do in such situations: they honked. No one around us could see what was causing the delay, but they still honked.

All except my father, who was irritated by the pointless behavior. So he calmly rolled down the driver's side window and waved his middle finger forward and back, flipping off the whole line of cars. Then he rolled the window back down. Shortly, traffic was rolling again.

One of the best lessons my father ever taught me.

Who was it that said the problem with the average man is that he's so damned average?

Most people are at least a little bit asinine, sort of as a hobby. Some people are asinine as a full-time job. Even the most saintly once in a while get something in an eye, have to look for a house number, or are simply old and not on top of things. Half the people on the road at any given moment haven't had enough sleep. A quarter are either intoxicated, stoned, have just broken up with their boyfriends, or can't figure out how to reset the clock on the car radio.

And then there's the inexplicable nature of the universe, which causes people to get in each other's way even when there's no reason for them to be anywhere near each other. It's probably best not to pay too much attention to other drivers; if you do, it's very easy to get the feeling that most occupants of the road are props, not spiritually present; they materialize in response to a call from the prop department, so that the roads will look as if there are enough people on them.

Ever driven towards an intersection, and nobody passed the entire time you had the road in sight, but as soon as you got there a dozen cars appeared from nowhere and made you wait? That's the prop department. You know in your heart that if you stopped each car and asked the occupants what the hell they were doing at the intersection of Yates and Poplar at exactly 4:14 am, not one of them would have a reasonable explanation. But there they are.

Or the guy who drives slowly, right in front of you, through a maze of suburban lanes, down the same cul-de-sac, almost to the door of your destination - then turns around and drives away without pulling in anywhere. Why was he there at all? What was he thinking?

The other day I set off driving to my habitual destination, remembered that wasn't where I was going after all, did a U turn, and deeply annoyed an old lady who was trying to cross the road. I was a prop to her. I'm pretty sure it's like the unawakened people in "the Matrix" - if you're not aware, at any time they can use you as a prop.

For the sake of those Salon readers without a sense of humor, I'd probably better point out that I'm kidding. But the coincidence of someone passing just as you get to an intersection does sometimes verge on the bizarre.

A related phenomenon is the nonexistent car accident. You know when there's an accident up ahead, how people slow down and rubberneck and create a traffic jam? And sometimes you reach the bottleneck and THERE'S NOTHING THERE? And just past it, everyone suddenly starts driving normally. My husband and I call this a "stupidity vortex." It's like a little gravity well, only instead of mass, it increases stupidity.

I was taught, by my saintly grandfather, to signal well ahead of when I needed to change lanes, to match the speed of the lane next to me, and then merge. This served me well in Memphis.

Not so much in Chicago, where, as Vanderbilt says about NYC, other drivers regard a signal as a challenge. My friend, who grew up in Chicago, told me that the time-honored way to switch lanes during rush hour in Chicago is to act crazy. Swerve slightly a few times as if you might actually be willing to plow into the passing traffic. Rev your engine. Flash lights at random. The people in the other lane will back off and make room.

It's against my nature and everything I was taught to act like this... but after missing my exit a few times I tried it out. I hate to say it, but it works.

I don't know from "reckless driving," but in Tennessee you can be ticketed for violating the "basic speed law" if your speed is more than 15 mph slower or faster than surrounding traffic. The law is meant to stop little old ladies from driving 35 on the freeway and crazy young men from driving 65 in sheets of rain, but I was told in driver's ed that it can theoretically be used to ticket people for driving the speed limit if all others around them are speeding.

Seems unlikely to me. If everyone is driving 85 except one guy driving 65, the cops are more likely to go for the buffet of speeders than the one poor sod getting passed.

I drive 60 miles a day through the streets of Los Angeles --- from Pasadena to West L.A. --- every day. I have always heard that cops refer to Los Angeles drivers as near professional, and that is almost always my experience. I would say that literally 99% of the drivers I encounter are courteous and sensible, and as a consequence, Los Angeles rush hour traffic goes about as well as it can. Indeed, rush hour traffic is frequently less congested than weekend traffic because the rush hour drivers know exactly what they are doing, and do it smoothly and sensibly.

And almost no one honks, except to avoid a collision.