driving – Gary Bennett Publishing

Great American Road Trip, Fredericktonian-style

by Gary Bennett

This article appears in Frederick News-Post’s “72 Hours” entertainment insert, June 7, 2023.

“You do want sweet tea, right sugah?” the slightly overweight, middle-aged waitress drawled as I sunk into my comfy booth at Stuckey’s just off Interstate 59 in southern Alabama. “Oh yes, sweet tea would be great”, I said, as she scribbled in het ticket book. “That’s a good thing, sugah,” Doris said, “because you’re in the South now and that’s all we got.” I overlooked the logic of that statement much as you would overlook your mom asking you to wear clean shorts in the car because you never know when you’ll be in an accident. It might not make sense, but she means well.

Ah yes, Doris’s sweetness reminded me there’s nothing like a good road trip.

Once the bastion of the middle class, Americans of all stripes are now loading up the family car for getaways far and wide. According to U.S. Travel Association, Americans logged 1.8 billion person‐trips of 50 miles a more with an overnight stay for leisure purposes in 2018. That means that, on average, every man, woman, and child in the U.S. took five such leisure trips in 2018.

There used to be a bit of a stigma attached to traveling long distances by car, especially if you fancied yourself upwardly mobile with a little bit of money in the bank and are traveling more than a few hundred miles. After all, why wouldn’t you fly? Saves a lot of time, right? Well, sort of. More on that in a minute. Kind of glamorous, right? Uh, no.

I’m sorry to confirm what you already know in your heart about air travel: there is nothing glamorous about it, and it comes with monumental downsides. First, there’s the expense. Second, the inconvenience. Third, the angst of finding the best deal. Then throw in all the idle time waiting in lines, constant delays, surly agents, glum and germy strangers, crowded conditions, random cancellations, weather problems, terrorist threats, seats designed by Marquis de Sade worshipers, bad food, and nothing being in control, and I’m not sure why anyone flies who doesn’t have to. As for saving time, once you factor in getting to the airport, all the waiting and delays, transfers, and getting a rental car and driving to your final destination, the time savings gap closes up faster than a liquor store on Christmas Eve.

I’m here to witness that if God intended us to fly everywhere, he wouldn’t have created the magnificent U.S. Interstate Highway System, or more precisely, provided the wherewithal for humans to create it. Our interstate system efficiently gets us into every nook and cranny of our great country with very little planning needed. It puts a map of the human body’s circulation system to shame.

If you have the notion and time, you can start off early tomorrow morning from Frederick and be in sunny Tampa, Florida, by night fall. I’ve done that myself many times. Our country is just the right size for such escapades – neither too large nor too small. I envy all those adventurous souls who claim to have driven coast to coast. That’s not such a big deal in, say, Croatia.

My wife Ellen and I wanted to do something special for New Year’s Eve last year, so we made plans to drive 2,200 miles round-trip from Frederick to New Orleans. What better place to solemnly celebrate the beginning of the new year than New Orleans, right?

We could have flown, sure, but didn’t even consider it. Okay, I’m sure Ellen did. After all, I’m not the world’s best driver, as she will attest. But in my defense, I am cheerful and quite enthusiastic. The call of the open road and chance for adventure is just too great for me to pass up. And to my wife’s lasting credit, she is usually willing to overlook the small stuff with me, much as you would a child.

Now, you can’t just head off without a plan. I have several “rules of the road” that I’ve found are necessary in order to make the most of one’s road trip and to bring order to what can be a chaotic endeavor. I am happy to share them here.

My first driving rule is fairly minor but unassailable: the driver controls the music. This may seem unfair (and maybe it is because I drive most of the way) but consider the fact that I, like many drivers, depend on pounding rock music to help propel me down the road. If this were not so, there would be no such things as road trip songs. Further, I believe it has been scientifically proven the nerves in our ears are directly connected to our gas pedal foot.

Why, Sirius XM even has a channel devoted to road trip music. All-time favorites like Steppenwolf’s Born to be Wild and Magic Carpet Ride and Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run are guaranteed to keep you moving along at a clip just under speeding ticket level. It helps that my wife enjoys the same music I do. I think. Anyway, I’m not a total despot. All Ellen has to do is start bobbing away to a song she likes and I will immediately vacate my rule on a temporary basis and stick with that song for the duration. Bruce Hornsby songs, inexplicably, are a particular favorite of hers.

My second driving rule allows the passenger to control the in-car temperature and to decide when and where to stop. Unless a really good song comes on.

You may think that driving long distances is excruciatingly boring. Hah! (I mean, yes, you’re right – please stay off the roads.) But, my third driving rule helps overcome the boredom: You must always consider the people who live and work in the towns and cities you pass by and get to know a few. How do they live? What do they care about?

Fortunately, the need for gas, food, and shall we say “rest” provide ample opportunity to converse with the locals. That’s how I’ve made so many temporary friends over the years – mostly waitresses, convenience store clerks, and the occasional police officer – who are happy to share how they live, work, and what’s going on in town that week.

Take Crystal, our waitress at a New York-style deli in Roanoke, Virginia.

Imagine my surprise when I walked up to the cash register to pay our lunch bill with my credit card, as I always do, but was matter-of-factly informed by Crystal, “We don’t take credit cards—work of the devil. Cash or check only, sweetie.” She displayed no hint of sorrow or embarrassment and was more than happy to point me to the bar next door to access an ATM. “Happens every day,” she sighed while directing me outside. I think the irony was lost on her that she was sending me to a bar to avoid the hellfire of credit, but it wasn’t my job to point that out. I could have just left without paying, but flustered, I left her my credit card anyway to ensure my return.

Crystal was such a trusting soul, she seemed surprised I would do such a thing. But I wasn’t surprised. I’ve always found people in the South to be more trusting than their Northern counterparts. Maybe it’s the slower pace of life or maybe it’s because they are so nice. You’d feel really bad if you cross them, so you don’t.

My fourth driving rule is to always allow enough time to see a few local landmarks along the way. I’m a sucker for these. My two favorite landmarks on this particular trip were the Chattanooga Choo Choo in well, Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Main Street in the sister cities of Bristol, Tennessee and Bristol, Virginia.

In the case of the sisters, not only are they two next-door cities with coincidentally the same name, but you can stand on Main Street and straddle two states at once! I took advantage of this opportunity, of course. Since I’m 6’2” with long legs, I was able to stand with one foot in Tennessee and one in Virginia. People must do this all the time, so I didn’t feel bad about briefly stopping traffic.

Still, as nice as Southerners typically are, some grew impatient and blew their horns. This attracted the attention of a stern-looking deputy sheriff. When I saw him coming, I ran to the car. The deputy stopped to give me some good advice. “Son, you can’t block traffic like this. Pick one town or the other and get the hell on the sidewalk.”

Bemused, he told me about another place I could go. Literally, not figuratively. He must have researched this to help people like me. “You know, out West, there’s a place where four states come together – Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona. They call it the Four Corners, and you can put your arms and legs in all four at once! And better yet, it’s out in the middle of nowhere and far away from here.”

I got the feeling he had imparted this wisdom before.

My fifth driving rule is to always make a bad joke to a total stranger when you can. Makes time go faster. In Chattanooga I stopped at a 7-11 to ask the nice attendant where I could find the famous Chattanooga Choo Choo. On the way in, we saw signs promising it was close by. The attendant, Sidney, seemed ready and willing to help because he’d obviously been asked this question before. But as luck would have it, I had already spotted a cat lounging in the sun on the front sidewalk, and I was ready.

I strolled up to Sidney, pointed, and musically asked “Pardon me, sir, is that the cat that chewed my shoe shoe?”

I laughed loudly. My wife rolled her eyes and moved slowly away. I was pleased with myself, nonetheless. Even though my singing of the old song was spot on, Sidney gave me that classical cocked head, furrowed eyebrow “what-are-you-talking-about” look. I suppose you have to be of a certain age to get that one, and he wasn’t and didn’t.

There was one sign on the way to New Orleans, though, that particularly caught my eye and rivaled any South of the Border sign. It nearly caused me to swerve onto the shoulder and back up a couple hundred feet to snap a picture. Sadly, I didn’t – Ellen has a better sense of road etiquette than me. Somewhere in rural Tennessee an official looking state-sanctioned sign warns: Rest Stop Ahead, No Oversize Loads

My final driving rule is to pay attention to the signs. You never know when you’ll be rewarded with a nugget of golden wisdom. Aliens landing on one of our interstate highways would surely think “Crazy Eddy” is a very important person and that a “Gentleman’s Lounge” is the seat of power.

I’ll be the first to admit, however, that the signs on the way to New Orleans pale in comparison to the signs on the way to Florida on I-95. Sure, there was “Stay Off Tracks—Trains” and ‘Get Lunch, Gas, and Worms Here” in rural Mississippi. But I-95 in South Carolina has the venerable tourist trap South of the Border. It is a tour de force of politically incorrect creative signage like “Roads’ Scholar,” “No Monkey Business, Joost Yankee Panky” and “Give Pedro the Business.” But the very best one features their intrepid mascot Pedro who assures us that “You’ve Never Sausage a Place; You’re Always a Weiner at Pedro’s” complete with an image of a very large pork product representing their iffy lunch offerings.

There was a sign on the way to New Orleans, though, that particularly caught my eye and rivaled any South of the Border sign. It nearly caused me to swerve onto the shoulder and back up a couple hundred feet to snap a picture. Sadly, I didn’t. Somewhere in rural Tennessee, an official looking state-sanctioned sign warns: Rest Stop Ahead, No Oversize Loads

Now maybe it is just the way my mind works, but that hardly seems fair when every other exit features a Cracker Barrell, Stuckey’s, or Hardees. Even though I did qualify to stop, I indignantly decided to pass this one by.

When it’s time for the driving talk

By Gary Bennett

Taking the keys from an older loved one can come at any time.

This article appears in the April 2023 edition of “Prime Time” in the Frederick News Post

My father-in-law thought he was a pretty good driver. After all, he’d been on the road for over 60 years. Well into his 80s, Pop chugged off from Cumberland every Monday morning to volunteer at a Baptist church camp on South Mountain in Frederick County. Sure, there were some minor fender benders along the way and few other close calls, but nothing serious.

Then one day he had a very serious accident near Boonsboro that injured him and totaled two cars. Thankfully the other driver was not badly hurt. No one was found at fault because witnesses provided differing accounts. After a lengthy hospital stay and some rehab, we came to learn that Pop was having difficulty turning his head to check blind spots. His slowing reflexes also made it difficult to react to changing traffic conditions and to move his foot from accelerator to brake quickly.

Even after all this, he was determined to return to the road, and he did, for a time. Much to our surprise, no authorities like the police, MVA or insurance company came for his keys. His daughters tried to talk him into giving up driving voluntarily, but he would not hear of it. Pop lived in a rural area with family far away and little to no public transportation options. Fiercely independent, he couldn’t imagine life without a car or asking neighbors for help.

Increasingly worried for his and others’ safety and unable to sway him, the daughters did what loving children do all over the country every day—they simply took away his keys.

In retrospect, this was not the thing to do. He was mad as a hornet, uncharacteristically so, and surprisingly resourceful. Pop simply got a ride to the dealership with title in hand and got another set of keys made. He continued driving but now with a mistrust of family that I’m not sure ever completely healed.

Our story is not unique. This scenario plays out across the country every day. For families everywhere, when to prevent an aging loved one from driving and possibly injuring themselves or others is a vexing issue.

For older adults, giving up the car keys means giving up independence and freedom of movement. They can no longer run to the hardware store on a whim or to that favorite restaurant for a quick bite. In their minds, they become beholden to others. They might become socially isolated. No one wants that for a loved one.

For my father-in-law, the answer came in the form of a hired companion and helper who was willing to take him where he wanted to go, when he wanted to go there. It helped that he liked this person and that she was doing her job, not doling out charity. It also helped that this gentle, giving man came to see that he could now donate his car to a someone more in need than him.

Of course, not every far-away family has the resources to hire a companion for their elderly loved one. That is why it is imperative to look for driving danger signs, research the alternative resources available and plan to have “the talk” long before it is needed.

Older Driver Danger Signs

First, ask neighbors if they have witnessed any issues with your loved one’s driving. Many scrapes and bumps can come from parking in one’s own driveway or garage.

Next, check for any driving citations or insurance notices that may have come in the mail.

Also be sure to check the car over every time you visit for new bumps, dents and scratches.

Above all, if possible, take a ride with your loved one to see for yourself how they drive.

Do they seem tentative or anxious, especially at night or in the rain?
Are they able to go the speed limit and not too fast or slow?
Do they make sudden turns or lane shifts?
Are they seeing and following road signs?
Do they forget where they are going or take a long and circuitous route getting there?
Do they have trouble turning their head or lifting their feet?
Can they stay in their lane?
Are they leaving ample space between themselves and other cars?
Do they have trouble with straight-in parking?

If you witness some of these actions on the same trip or one or two over many trips, it may be time for the talk.

Planning for the “Talk”

Even if your loved one is driving well right now, it doesn’t hurt to do your research and make plans for when they aren’t. If you’re one of the lucky ones, your loved one may give up driving on their own, especially after an accident or near miss. But, if you’re like most of us, you’ll have to make a strong but compassionate case for them to give up driving. It also doesn’t hurt to present some attractive options to take its place.

Introduce the driving conversation gradually over time so your loved one knows it is a concern.
Avoid confrontation and be positive and supportive. Try to find a solution together.
Gently remind them other drivers’ well-being and safety is at stake, not just your loved one’s.
Learn about your loved one’s overall transportation needs. You may be surprised to find that their use of the car is minor and manageable.
Remind your loved one how expensive it is to keep a car, and without it, how all that saved money can be used for other transportation options.
Understand the available community resources. Even if public transportation is scarce, there could be non-profits and religious or community organizations that will transport your loved one free of charge or for a nominal cost you could pay ahead of time.
Check with loved one’s friends, neighbors and colleagues to see if they would be willing to help or know of someone who could.
Check with the local senior services agency for no- and low-cost options.
If resources allow, hire a helper who can also be a driver. This doesn’t have to be an all-day thing. This person could come for just a few hours a day to help with appointments and errands.
Help your loved one learn to use a ridesharing app or how to call a cab.
Take advantage of drug, meal and grocery delivery.

Self-awareness is Key

If your loved one is still a decent driver and they are willing, you can help them take steps to minimize risks and improve their driving.

Ensure they have regular check-ups to test sight, hearing, muscle flexibility and mental acuity—all things needed for safe driving.
Remind them they shouldn’t drive if their medicine warns about operating heavy machinery.
Have them avoid driving at night or in bad weather if that is an issue.
Ask them to drive in the right lane at all times unless preparing to turn left.
Emphasize they should be able to drive the legal speed limit and avoid going too fast or too slow.
Make sure they know where they are going and their preferred route to get there before they head out.
Ask them to be a persistent, unapologetic turn signal user. This easy but underutilized act lets other drivers know their intentions.
Ask them to avoid driving during the morning and evening rush hours or at dawn or dusk when the sun may be in their eyes.
Space is their friend. Ask them to not crowd or tailgate. Space allows for minor errors to stay minor and not become critical.

Work to Improve

None of us are too old or experienced to improve our driving skills. Show them how and where they can work to improve. You may find they will welcome this help if it keeps them driving longer.

Ask them to assess their own driving skills. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration has an online tool to help.
Ask them to get help from trusted organizations. The American Automobile Association (AAA), American Association of Retired Persons (AARP) and American Occupational Therapy Association (AOTA) offer driver safety courses geared to older Americans.
Keep it local and personal by contacting organizations in Frederick that can help with in-person, older driver improvement. Rehabilitation of Frederick https://www.rehabilitationoffrederick.com and Baker Driving Rehab https://www.bakerrehabgroup.com/2014/03/baker-driving-rehabilitation/ are two respected local firms that can help.

Worried Senior Male Driver Looking Through Car Windscreen

Gary Bennett is retired and spends his days providing daycare to grandchildren, volunteering, writing, and driving all around Frederick three days a week delivering prescriptions and observing drivers.

Frederick’s Courtesy Bridge Needed Now More Than Ever

By Gary Bennett

Frederick’s iconic “Courtesy Bridge” on Shookstown Road near Rosemont Avenue handles 2,100 trips a day without incident.

As seen in the Frederick News-Post, Saturday, Dec. 12, 2020.

If you agree with me that we could all use a little more courtesy in our lives, then we are indeed fortunate to have right in our midst a bridge that reminds us every day to be just that: courteous.

Frederick’s iconic “Courtesy Bridge” is the one-lane bridge situated on Shookstown Road just to the west of Rosemont Avenue, spanning an unassuming section of Carroll Creek just before it winds itself toward downtown Frederick and fame as the main attraction in Maryland’s second largest city. While many larger bridges are named after politicians or fallen service members, this humble bridge sports a sign at either end designating it the symbol of this noble human trait that may have seen better days.

One-lane bridges aren’t unique to Frederick County or any other country setting, for that matter. Frederick County has more than its share sprinkled throughout. What makes this one-lane bridge unique is its location. It is smack dab in the middle of Frederick city, connecting the city’s western “Golden Mile” area with Baker Park and its central business district. As you come upon the bridge, it appears to be in a rural section of Frederick, but nothing could be further from the truth. The bridge is just yards away from banks, restaurants, nursing homes, and an imposing Sheetz convenience store.

If you have traveled Shookstown Road, you know the bridge has a long history of people alternating the direction of travel; you go first, then the other side comes across. In this day and age, you might think this is a recipe for disaster. If it is, I haven’t seen it. I estimate I have traversed this bridge over 500 times in my 35 years in Frederick without incident, accident, or even undue delay.

And it’s not just me. According to city police, accidents and incidents at the bridge are exceedingly rare. There have been no documented accidents the last 10 years. It helps that the sight lines are very good. You can see opposing vehicles from over 1,000 feet away. The courtesy signs also help. But we citizens should take some credit, too. Frederick is mostly a polite, progressive city and we show that every day with how we conduct ourselves.

The bridge was built in 1911 when Frederick was a much smaller city and refurbished in 1988. As the city grew, however, engineers did not feel a burning need to enlarge the bridge. In the last few years, however, nearby road improvements have taken some of the traffic load away from the bridge. Still, the bridge successfully handles about 2,100 trips per day according to Frederick’s Street Maintenance Dept.

Things aren’t always courteous on the bridge, of course. Occasionally, manners do go missing. There have been sporadic reports of stare-downs in the middle of the bridge and, on at least one occasion, police were summoned to de-escalate a situation where neither car would budge from the bridge, causing a traffic backup that forced unlucky fellow motorists to have to back up and find another route to their destinations. Driver impairment played a part in this incident.

But consensus holds that these instances are the exception. Residents of the homes lining Shookstown Road near the bridge generally have good things to say. Ariah Holland, who is a frequent walker over the bridge since a sidewalk was added a few years back, appreciates friendly waves from passing motorists. David Maloney, who has lived in his home just yards from the bridge for over 40 years can recall no major problems because of the narrow passage but blames the few accidents he is aware of on speed. “It’s generally understood that you wait your turn although some people still fly if they see the bridge is open.” Phil Pople, who has lived in the area for 25 years, finds the bridge charming and quaint and can recall no serious issues. He does appreciate that recent improvements to nearby roads have decreased traffic on the bridge enough that it is now easy for him to turn into his driveway.

It’s true that we are in fact forced to be courteous at the bridge to some extent in order to minimize the risk of a head on collision. As I recently sat behind a short line of cars waiting to take my turn on the bridge, I got to thinking about forced courtesy. Certainly, it would be better if we could just be courteous on our own, but I suppose being forced to be courteous is better than nothing. So, Frederick, join me at the Courtesy Bridge for a moment of Zen and a friendly wave at your fellow motorists. And don’t forget to take advantage of this rare opportunity to be recognized for your courtesy.

Adventures in Commuting

By Gary Bennett

As seen in The Washington Post, Sunday, December 29, 2019.

“Well, I guess we’re all in this together,“ I said to the woman I was eyeball to eyeball with on Metro. I’ve lived in Frederick for 30 years and worked in the District, Northern Virginia, or Baltimore the entire time.

As a dedicated transit rider, I’m well versed in the sardine effect that takes place on so many Metro trips and the etiquette required to get through them. I’m sure you’ve experienced this, too. Many times I’ve been so uncomfortably close to someone else on Metro all I could do was smile and try to relieve the tension. You can’t just remain silent; that seems wrong. “I feel like I should at least buy you dinner or get your phone number,” I said to one woman older than I. She sighed and agreed. You’d be surprised at the kinship of the downtrodden.

I’ve seen numerous perplexing events during my 30 years of commuting and been party to more than I’d like to admit. There was the time I was asked by a male stranger if I would like to have my portrait done. Now, you don’t get that kind of offer every day but somehow it didn’t seem too unusual on Metro. I didn’t see any paints or photography equipment, but the man did seem to be relatively sane and earnest enough. After some quick calculations though, I politely declined. He moved on to someone else. After I relayed this story to my wife, she assured me that I had been propositioned. The more I think about it, I guess she was right. But then I’ve always been pretty oblivious to matters of the heart.

Occasionally, to get a little exercise, I will walk an extra 10 or 12 blocks to pick up Metro a couple of stops from my usual one. One day it was a little warmer than I thought, and I walked a little faster than I should have, so I got onto Metro a little sweaty and out of breath. Immediately a young woman jumped up and offered me her seat. I’m sure she felt I was a heart attack waiting to happen and wanted no part of that. This was the first time I had ever been offered a seat on Metro, and I took it as a sign that my working days were quickly coming to an end. Flustered, I refused the seat and stood up the rest of the way home — even after she departed and the train was almost empty.

I’ve seen more panhandling, fights, medical emergencies, and proud, loud, singing than I can remember. My most memorable subway person, as I like to call them, would have to be the wayward soul who was proudly relieving himself – complete with oohs and ahhs – on the Twinbrook Metro platform in broad daylight in front of God and everyone. The high arc of his stream was undeniably impressive, and I have to admit that I envied his carefree abandon.

Of course adventurous commuting is not limited to public transportation. You still have to get to the station. I estimate I’ve driven well more than a million miles to and from work in my lifetime and seen and had plenty of fun behind the wheel. I’ve been stuck in countless traffic jams, seen numerous fender benders and worse, and witnessed, but never participated in, terrifying bouts of road rage. I’ve seen other drivers (never me) do everything from reading the paper and shaving to applying a full day’s worth of makeup, and yes, making out with their front seat companion. I’ve even been booed by passing motorists after emerging dazed from an accident that flipped my car over and caused a severe back up.

But my favorite driving foible has to be the one on the back roads of Montgomery County. I’ve always done everything possible to avoid as much of Interstate 270 as I can. That makes me a devotee of southbound Routes 85, 355, and 28. One day, Barnesville Road was closed due to an accident. Drivers were detoured onto West Old Baltimore Road, a pleasant enough country road. After a few miles and much to my dismay I came upon a stream crossing without a bridge. Who knew such things still existed in Montgomery County? It is one of the richest counties in the country; you’d think every stream crossing would have a bridge. I carefully crossed the stream, got to work on time, and thought my grandpa who lived and worked in the mountains of West Virginia would be proud.