The golden rule isn’t just for church. It applies everywhere. And it can be a matter of life and death. I love motorists’ John 3:16 bumper stickers. They should also try Matthew 7:12, in which Jesus says not to operate your two-ton hunk of death-dealing metal and flimsy fiberglass in a way that’s dangerous toward others if you don’t want others to do the same to you.
Take this morning, when Kathy and I were on the way to lunch in Glendale. Preparing to exit the eastbound 134, I signaled a change from the number one to the center lane. A Camaro, moving at 75-80 in the slow lane, flashed into view on my right and cut me off from two lanes away. His strawberry back porch waggling like General Lee, he settled into the fast lane and roared on ahead to imperil the rest of the motoring public.
If I hadn’t seen him and stopped my lane change, he’d have hit us right where Kathy was sitting. He was obviously showing off his prowess and shiny muscle car. I didn’t actually see the driver. Excuse me for being so sure about the pronoun. Last weekend in New York, stepson Dan and I were Ubering to a baseball game when a driver pulled a similar stunt, forcing our driver to swerve dangerously . The knucklehead received our rebukes in two languages. I’ve been rear-ended twice in the last year. I’m hoping the fifth time will also be the charm.
Most of us have accepted driving’s inherent risks. Injuries and deaths are relatively rare. But everyone reading this post can describe accidents or close calls where they, but not the other driver, chose to honor the social contract. I wonder how Camaro man would feel if he killed or injured someone, such as a baby in a safety seat who hadn’t even gotten to vote whether to take the risk. Such as Kathy and me.
Driving doesn’t have to be a crapshoot. Americans’ selfish behavior makes it that way. About 40,000 die in accidents each year, at a rate four times higher than in Germany or Britain. Experts blame big cars, high and yet often exceeded speed limits, drivers looking at their phones, and aggressive driving. This is all on us. Even size matters if my Escalade or F-150 would pulverize someone because I’m speeding, texting, or making Saturday on the freeway, surrounded by innocent, unknowing potential victims, an episode of the Hummer Games so I can defend my ego. Perhaps those convicted of reckless driving should be sentenced to 18-24 months in a Mini Cooper.
At the highest level, power is modeling that it can do whatever wants. That the rules and the values of common decency don’t matter. As a result, people are dying all over the world — peaceful demonstrators in Minneapolis, men of color on the high seas, and hundreds of thousands of victims of sadistic humanitarian aid cuts in Africa. If we really want change, let’s be as kind to one another as we can close to home, where, after all, most accidents happen, on and off the highway.