There are certain invariable truths about driving in San Diego. For one, there are four kinds of vehicles around here: (1) Lexus, (2) BMW, (3) Mercedes, and (4) everything else. People really care about cars. I don't, never have. As evidence, my car often goes months without getting cleaned, inside or outside, and I am no stranger to wrecking it, either. Before I moved here, I got the front fender apparatus caught on a parking block and it tore off. Well, actually, it just hung there for a while. I would get it tied up periodically before finally getting it fixed. Once here, I hit a pedestrian and then later rammed into a car bearing "Baja California" (i.e., Mexico) plates. When I was 16, within weeks of getting my license, I caused two accidents in the span of three days, losing my driving privileges for two months. I don't know what it is - I feel like I am pretty cautious, but for some reason on occasion I turn into this guy and just wreck my car.
Anyway, back to California driving. It takes at least 15 minutes to get anywhere, even if it is just down the street, and you are required to take "the freeway" to get to just about any destination. It does not matter if it is an interstate or a state highway - they are all "freeways." Finding a "freeway" is another issue. Often an on-ramp is shoved right in the middle of a neighborhood and you usually have about 9 seconds advance notice.
Asking directions to a freeway is not a good option. "Locals" will sometimes omit one to three major roads or turns that you must take, as they merely assume you generally know where you are going, even though you have asked them how to get there. The other thing they assume that you know is the direction of the freeway. Freeways are generally called "freeways," but specific freeways are known only by their number and always, always with an oddly placed article in front of it. So what would be "Interstate 5 north/Interstate 5 south" or "I-5 north/I-5 south" in Ohio is known simply as "the 5" out here.
Perhaps "the" makes sense because it is the only freeway with the number 5. If that is the case, though, then maybe I should be known as "the Matt" or, given our geography, "el Matt."
Now, locals might say that saying "the 5," rather than giving a direction for "the 5," is perfectly permissible because only a moron would not know which direction to take the freeway. LA, North County, and Orange County are north and Mexico is south, and that is pretty much it. Because pointing this out provides the Californian with such self-satisfaction, I will accept that argument for purposes of this post only - see, no one can ever accuse me of damaging the self esteem of those whose self-esteem SHOULD be low. But, California is home to a billion "freeways." In and around San Diego alone, there is the 15 (both the interstate AND the state highway), the 5, the 163, the 54, the 805, the 94, the 78, the 52, and the 8. So a directional cue is not, it seems, beyond the bounds of decency.
Let's say you manage to decipher the Chinese that is the local's directions, and you find the freeway. Home free, right? Nope. You have to merge onto the freeway. There are usually two lanes on the on-ramp. Then when those two lanes come up onto the freeway, you sometimes see to your right two other lanes, from another on-ramp, that are also trying to merge onto the freeway. Sometimes these four lanes, without warning, go down to three, two, or even one lanes.
Californians are not the most polite drivers. Whether you put on your blinker or not, they usually will just ignore your attempts to merge onto the freeway if they are already on it. Part of the reason for this could be that, once you merge onto the freeway, you are often required to traverse 2-4 lanes of traffic in order to stay ON the freeway. So those people who did not let you in could be just getting off the freeway onto another freeway. Or not. Maybe they are just inhuman automatons without a speck of decency. One of the two. Oh, and by the way, you usually have about 200 feet or so to cross all those lanes in order to stay on the freeway onto which you just worked so hard to enter.
This brings us, lastly, to California drivers. There are two types of drivers out here, and there is no in between. You have the driver, like my girlfriend Lindsey, who goes no less than Mach-3 on any and all freeways, and who regards with utter contempt all those who have the gall to drive less than 125 mph. Then there is the slow driver. This person drives 10-20 mph under the posted speed limit, and usually in one of the left lanes, just to twist the knife. This person causes steam to erupt from the fast driver's ears, as well as a stream of expletives suitable only at NASCAR events and seedy pool halls. Within the category of slow driver you have elderly folks, tourists (who, understandably, feel as though they are on Mars on California freeways), and the "rollers," whose wax jobs, spinning rims, and bass all convey a desire to be seen rather than to actually get somewhere.
On the positive side, though, in California u-turns are legal at nearly all intersections. :)
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