It's important to feel safe and secure. We need our personal space. That's a basic human need.
This universal truth helps explain our preference for law and order and the fact that people tend to pair off, procreate and spend their remaining years watching television and complaining about their single friends and young people.
This need does not, however, adequately explain one of the road's most aggravating drivers - "cushions" - motorists so bent on keeping "their space" that they pathologically maintain a minimum of 18 feet on all sides. It doesn't matter how much space is available, cushions are steadfast in their devotion to keeping the entire automotive world at bay.
Here's a typical cushion incident: You're approaching a red light and, if you're in one of the provinces which allows right turns on a red, you're feeling pretty good about your chances of continuing your journey. But wait, there in front of you sits a cushion. He has plenty of empty road before him but he's holding back at the light, just far enough that you can't slip by and make your right. All he has to do is inch forward a few feet and you could keep going, but - stuck in the grips of a mortal fear - the cushion blocks your way.
Cushions employ the same method in all circumstances. Traffic is stopped and all you want to do is nudge into the other lane but you are blocked by a cushion who's giving the car in front of him 10 feet of space. Or maybe there is someone behind you who wants to switch lanes and you're just trying to be obliging. The cushion has other plans. You'd think his life depended on maintaining this precious distance. You try a friendly honk. Not the aggressive sort, the chipper "toot toot" that you imagine a friendly tropical bird might make. It has no effect. For the cushion is as constant as the northern star when it comes to allowing its hunger for space to screw up everyone's drive.
Once you've tangled with the cushion it's off to meet the road's other spatially challenged menace - the tailgater. While the cushion is annoying, for the most part it's benign; after all, you don't usually hit anyone trying to stay as far away from them as possible. The tailgater, in contrast, is both annoying and extremely dangerous. Like a zebra mussel affixing itself to a dock, the tailgater jumps on your rear bumper and proceeds to crowd you.
It doesn't matter if you are in a traffic jam and no one is going anywhere, the tailgater will still crowd you. It makes no difference that, if you got out of the way, all the tailgater would do is shave 0.000001 seconds off his journey.
Nope. It's a mental thing. Where the cushion retreats the tailgater takes the offensive against all the unreasonable people who have the audacity to be on the same road.
On a certain level you have to admire their narcissism; the sheer single-mindedness of the behaviour. These are folks who have no idea (or care) how dangerous their tailgating may be. They are convinced they are invincible. What if the car in front of them brakes suddenly and they crash into the back? Details! Details! Who ever heard of a car braking short?
Accompanying the tailgater on his trip is the "professor." This guy is determined to teach everyone a lesson. Is someone tailgating him? Well, he'll educate them by slamming abruptly on the brakes. That'll learn 'em!
Everyone knows the best way to show people that tailgating is dangerous is by causing a real accident. When the professor encounters a cushion he gets his vehicle up as close as he can, to teach the offending motorist that he doesn't need to take so much space. After all, the best way to demonstrate to a cushion that he doesn't need so much space is to hit him from behind.
Cushions, tailgaters and professors: these groups form the unholy trinity of driving transgressions. We all hate them and yet, when pressed to be honest, at one time or another we all practice their dark arts. Perhaps it's time for some common sense.
Whatever happened to the two-second rule? You know, you should be two seconds behind whatever car you're following. I believe that figure has now been raised to three seconds but the logic remains the same. You need to give yourself enough time to react should a hazardous situation occur.
Common sense. An ironic juxtaposition, considering that there are few things less commonly found on our roads today than sense.
Andrew Clark