For the Want of a Dashcam

Earlier today, Sylvia and I headed to Leduc to help Mom with some gardening and return her leaf blower. To avoid construction on the southwest leg of Anthony Henday Drive, we drove north instead, figuring it would be faster to drive all the way around the city than wait for the inevitable backlog through the construction zone. 

That choice could have gone very badly for us. Just a few minutes into the drive, we rounded a gentle curve and discovered an upside-down kayak was blocking the entire middle lane--the one we were using. I barely had time to shoulder check and maneuver into the left lane to dodge the obstacle. 

Fortunately, the kayak was bright green-yellow and I spotted it instantly. Had we hit it, at the very least the kayak would have ruined our front end and undercarriage; at worst, I might have lost control of the vehicle. 

Our car was the first to nearly collide with the kayak; while all this was happening, I caught sight of a man getting out of a pickup truck and getting out his cell phone, presumably to call emergency services. Several vehicles behind us had to swerve clear of the kayak as well, and as I lost sight of the man with the cell phone, I hoped we wouldn't get himself killed trying to drag the kayak to the shoulder. 

Everything happened in just a couple of seconds. It was a good reminder to stay alert when you're driving. 

Undercover Avenue

Something strange happened on the way home from work this afternoon: along my straightforward drive from Stantec Tower to Terra Losa, I drove past five unmarked police cars with their lights running in the act of pulling over other drivers. Even stranger, they were about evenly spaced at one-fifth intervals along my commute, the first just past Stantec Tower and the last just before my final turn into our condo complex. The vehicles pulled over were two mid-size cars, two pickup trucks, and a box truck.

Were they speeding? Was EPS conducting some kind of spot check along my route? Questions, questions...

Whither Gas Stations?

Earlier this morning I had my car filled with gas at Domo, one of the few service station chains that still employs people that pump gas and wipe your windows. While I was waiting for the fill-up to end, I couldn't help but imagine the days of gas stations with any employees at all will probably come to an end within the next decade or so. There's no technological barrier to eliminating employees entirely; we can already pay by debit or credit to unlock the pump, and if there really is a market for service, we must be pretty close to developing a robot arm that can flick open your fuelling port, twist off the cap, insert the spout and start pumping gas into your tank. When electric stations become commonplace, I imagine automatic fuelling will be even easier; just drive your car atop a charge pad, wave your debit or credit card in the general direction of the scanner, and you're done.

I had some trouble finding out how many gas station attendants remain in Canada; according to Service Canada, there are 2,800 in Quebec. I'm not going to do the math, but maybe that amounts to about 10,000 spread across the country, assuming each province and territory have roughly the same number of gas station attendants per capita.

Imagine you're camping in a national park a few years from now, and you notice your car is just about out of energy. You won't need to worry; you can just tell it to go charge up at the nearest station. Maybe the station will even pop your trunk and fill it with snacks, all without human intervention.

Of course, when all the jobs are being done by robots and software, few of us will be able to afford luxuries such as camping trips, vehicles and food, unless of course we decide, as a civilization, that we need to look at new paradigms to address the overwhelming wave of change that's breaking across us right now. What a time to be alive...on the cusp of utopia or cataclysm. 

Sudden (Near) Impact

Had the timing changed by a bare second last night, I might not be writing this today. 

Shortly after midnight, I was driving south on 178th, heading across the bridge over the Yellowhead. My driver-side window was rolled down so I could enjoy the warm summer night; I was listening to one of the many variations of the Mission: Impossible theme on my phone. 

I was moving at the speed limit, 60 kph, on a very fresh green light. I took note of a semi heading north, the only other traffic in my immediate vicinity; he moved into the opposite left-turn lane. 

Since I had the right-of-way, I naturally assumed he would stop to let me proceed. Instead, he moved into the intersection like he hadn't seen me at all. 

Earlier in the evening, the guys were explaining to Colin's son Avery that I cursed only under very specific conditions, and rarely. Last night gave me a new reason to bark a profane oath. 

"HOLLLYYYYY SHIIIIIITTTTTTTTTTTTT," I cried as I threw the car out of gear and stomped on the brake pedal harder than I've ever done before. The car's nose pitched downward so steeply that I thought my bumper was going to touch asphalt. There was a scream of protesting rubber, and I think that's what finally alerted the semi driver, who also slammed on his brakes. His cab bucked up and down violently. 

We came to rest in perfect time with the final two notes of the Mission: Impossible theme. I'd applied my brakes perhaps two or three metres before the stop line; my car came to a halt perhaps a quarter of the way into the intersection. The semi was about halfway through. My left front corner was about two metres away from his right front corner. That sounds like a long way, but had our reactions been delayed by even an instant, the outcome would have been very different. 

In silence, three or four seconds passed. The semi driver gave me a sheepish wave of apology; I waved back that I was okay. The light was still green; there was nothing more to do but proceed. 

It was the closest call I've experienced in many years. I feel grateful to be alive today, and particularly grateful to my Kia's brakes, which performed with spectacular, life-saving aplomb. 

Everything you are and everyone and everything you love can be taken away in an instant. Last night reminded me to relish every second. 

The Winter of My Discontent

Another snowfall, another flat. Thankfully I was giving Sean a ride home - he gave me a big hand changing the tire and captured this annoying moment for posterity. 

Carmudgeon

I do my best to drive defensively, though like any other driver I make mistakes due to distractions, fatigue, incomplete planning and the occasional bad judgment call.

So it puzzles me when many of the drivers around me speed through construction zones as if they don't see the signs at all. The phenomenon is especially bad on Highway 2 between Edmonton and Leduc; there's been an 80 km/h construction zone in place there for months, and yet I daresay most drivers barrel through at speeds between 100 and 130 km/h.

I honestly don't understand this behaviour. If it were one or two drivers, I could chalk it up to fatigue or distraction. But when it's almost everyone, I start to wonder if somehow I'm in the wrong, if I've missed some important secret driving rule. Is there ever a time when it's okay to race through construction zones as if they don't exist? What am I missing? 

The Edmonton Sprawlway

That's my new name for whatever overpass they're building on the outskirts of Edmonton, which may as well be the outskirts of Leduc, really, considering how far the city has sprawled. Why call the Anthony Henday a ring road when there's already so much development outside it? Crazy. 

Odd Meter

"TOO CLOSE"

On the drive home yesterday it occurred to me that given advances in proximity detection technology, it should be relatively easy for car manufacturers to devise a new safety feature for vehicles. I envision a "TOO CLOSE" sign installed on the rear of vehicles which would light up when another vehicle, approaching from behind, breaches safe stopping distance. You'd need a computer to calculate speeds, of course, but it seems like this could be doable. I wonder if this is a good idea, or if there are factors I'm not considering that would make it unsafe or unfeasible? 

Earl Trek Into Darkness

I left work at five this evening, prepared for a long, slow, stressful commute, which Edmonton delivered in spades. After about a half hour I'd managed to make it from 105 street to 124 street, cars all around me, most of them wanting to make the same desperate turn at Stony Plain Road I hoped to take. 

Suddenly, sirens crowed behind me. A fire engine was driving against the oncoming traffic, its lights forcing cars to give way. Serendipitiously, I happened to be parked at one of the few gaps in the long windrows, meaning that if I wanted to, I could stealthily pull in behind the fire engine and travel rapidly north on 124 street in its wake, bypassing traffic with none the wiser and perhaps shaving a half hour from my commute. 

Of course that would be a ridiculously irresponsible thing to do, not to mention selfish, so I resisted temptation. I wonder what sort of fine that kind of driving would get you? 

Breakfast in Saskatchewan

Whither ImPark?

Today I took my car in for servicing and used the courtesy shuttle to commute to work, saving me $13.50 in parking plus the hassle of driving downtown. It was a nice change of pace.

Then I started thinking how nice it will be when driverless cars hit the market. We could program the car to take me to work, then Sylvia, and the car could park itself at APS and come pick me up at 4:30. No parking fees! I'd save $300 every month.

If everyone starts doing this, I wonder what will happen to parking prices downtown. Will they plummet in an attempt to delay the inevitable, luring folks with manual-drive vehicles to put off buying driverless cars? Or will they shoot up in an attempt to milk as much cash as possible while there are still a few people who need to park downtown?

On the other hand, what will the city do? If cars are driving themselves back and forth to work, that's a trip in the morning plus a trip in the afternoon - both ways. Will the city dump a levy on driverless cars to help pay for increased road maintenance?

I don't know the answers to these questions, but the more I think about autonomous vehicles, the more I realize the ripple effects of the technology are going to be enormous. 

Perfect

Stop, Go, Go Very Fast

Today while driving west on Stony Plain Road I noticed that the traffic signal was showing green, but also flashing amber. I have never seen this signal before, and I instinctively slowed down a little while I tried to puzzle out what that particular configuration of lights could mean.

Green, of course, means go. A flashing amber generally means go, but use caution. Together? Uh...go, but use even more caution? No, that's backwards. Use caution, but less than usual? That doesn't seem likely.

Has anyone else seen this odd signal before? I fear I may need to redo my driver's test. 

My Own Confirmation Bias

Confirmation bias is an ugly thing; it calcifies our thought processes and perpetuates harmful stereotypes. Confirmation bias makes us smug and certain, replacing reason with self-righteousness.

That being said, what is up with drivers of BMWs? As a class they're the most aggressive and dangerous drivers on the road - at least in my experience. I can't count the number of times I've seen BMWs speeding, running yellow and red lights, failing to stop for pedestrians, tailgating, failing to signal, cutting people off and just generally acting like fools on the road. As far as I'm concerned, BMW stands for "Belligerent Motorist! Warning!"

...what? 

Homemade GPS

Just Another Manic Monday

It was a dark and stormy night and thus my dreams were lit with flashes of lightning penetrating my subconscious. I slept fitfully, tossing and turning until at last it was time to rise. Grumbling, my vision sleep-blurred, I stumbled through my morning routine and decided to drive to work rather than ride the bus; we needed groceries, and I could stop at the supermarket on the way home.

Despite my lack of sleep I felt reasonably refreshed and aware by the time I climbed into the car. Because I've been making an effort to eat breakfast more consistently, I stopped at Tim Horton's for a toasted bagel and a hot chocolate.

I ate the bagel without incident, waiting for the hot chocolate to cool as I headed downtown. Just as I was turning into the parking lot, I thought this would be an opportune time to peel back the lid of my beverage and enjoy a shot of sugar and caffeine.

But capricious Fate was up to her old tricks, and as I fumbled with the hot chocolate I hit a bump in the parking lot. The car lurched upward as my fingers thrust down, and in an instant my hand thrust violently through the lid and into the (thankfully) lukewarm drink. A geyser of hot chocolate erupted from the wounded cup.

Hot chocolate covered my hand, my sleeve. Hot chocolate sprayed across the console, the stick shift. Hot chocolate coated the steering wheel, filled the cup holder. Hot chocolate soaked my phone. Hot chocolate spattered my glasses. Hot chocolate matted down my hair and filled my right ear.

In shock, I phoned my boss and said I'd be a little late. Dripping with sugary muck, the stick shift and steering wheel wet with wasted libations, I turned around and drove home to change, shower and quickly detail the cockpit of the car. When all was said and done I was only about 45 minutes late for work, but it wasn't the sweet start to my day I'd hoped for.

Then, at about 2:30, Sylvia phoned. Clearly alarmed but remarkably composed considering her bug phobia, she reported that she'd had to kill a centipede that had nefariously wormed its way into the living room. The creature's corpse now slumbered beneath the tea towel that Sylvia had resourcefully used to snare it before stomping it to death with extreme prejudice. Sylvia's feet are tiny but not to be trifled with.

Given the events of the day, we decided to cancel the grocery shopping. Fate tempted thrice is often unkind.

Ice Cap-tastrophe

Once a week, Sylvia and I travel to Tim Horton's to replenish her supply of Ice Caps. Consequently, during the drive home her lap is home to a half-dozen of the chilly coffee drinks, perched there rather precariously. "One day we're going to hit a bump and those are going to fly all over the place," I've noted more than once.

I often tease Sylvia about her near-addiction to Ice Caps, if only because it rivals my own fondness for Coca-Cola. Sometimes the form of that teasing takes a macabre turn.

"What if," I speculated the other day, "We rolled the car while transporting a load of Ice Caps? Not an accident where we'd be hurt, but just one of those lucky no-injury crashes. We'd land wheels-up, but we'd both have Ice Cap goo all over us. We'd be drenched in it."

"You'd love that," she remarked, sipping her drink.

Well, aside from the expense of repairing the car, maybe. If nothing else, it might make a good scene in one of those Wes Anderson-style farces...



 

Picking Up Rob Day

The Near Miss

On November 12, Sylvia and I drove to Tim Horton's for drinks. On our way back, travelling south on 178th street just north of the 98th avenue intersection, we began to slow for that intersection's red light. I try to maintain situational awareness at all times while I'm driving - checking my mirrors, glancing around as much as possible - so I don't like to say that another vehicle "came out of nowhere."

But the white sedan that suddenly screeched by on our right hand side certainly seemed to come out of nowhere. It was going far too quickly to avoid rear-ending the last of the vehicles waiting at the light, and I grimaced, expecting the worst.

The driver veered onto the snow-covered median. His momentum was so great that despite the piled snow he plowed down the length of the median, six or seven car lengths, popping off the end and into the intersection, swerving right, cutting off the first car lined up at the light. He then nonchalantly drove west on 98th avenue as if nothing had happened.

It was either an impressive (if reckless) feat of automotive skill or profoundly lucky happenstance. Either way, I'm grateful and somewhat dumbfounded that no one was hurt. Stay careful out there.