California: Take the keys away

California has always been the end of the world, just before the dropoff into the Pacific. That old encouragement to finding destiny in the new frontier, “Go west, young man,� seems, like lemmings arriving at the cliff before the plunge, to have morphed into a slogan for every excess, every extreme for every belief system, faith, politics, work ethic and skill before the barrier of the Pacific impedes further expansion.

(I would add that some friends in Japan and Korea would argue that somehow American culture canoes have unfortunately reached their shores.)

It is almost as if the lemmings, faced with the oblivion of the leap from the cliff, said to one another, “Oh, heck. Let’s pretend we meant to arrive and stay here. Let’s see what we can get up to since there is nowhere else to go.�

And get up to things Californians do. Like all humans there is good and bad, excellence and mediocrity, faith and disbelief. The problem is, perhaps, that the lemmings had been on a mission (go west) and like all good missionaries, they believe they are always right, on the righteous path. That faith in oneself when coupled with diminishing standards borne of population density and ease of living in a benign climate lead, often, to a level of ineptitude that borders on the frightening.

I’ve been driving in the Los Angeles area. Oh, my god.

If you have never endured driving in LA, I have a piece of advice: Don’t. Lane changing on highways at 65 mph? No problem, don’t bother to indicate or check mirrors. Pass on the inside? No problem, it is legal. Fast lane? Pick one. Any one. Don’t worry, it’ll change and re-change every few minutes.

All cars moving, all six lanes, at 65 mph? Expect a stop-and-go every 10 minutes simply because there is an empty intersection ahead and someone panics that there may be cars merging, causing him or her to apply the full braking power of their SUV, swerve two lanes in anticipation of the possible merge lane a half-mile ahead. Think I’m kidding? You really need to take my word for this, or experience it for yourself and risk imminent death.

Speaking of death, in two days, perhaps 10 hours of driving out here, I have seen a car split in two, three bodies splayed out on the grass verge (the sprinklers were watering them nicely), maybe 30 cops milling about measuring, the SUV driver that smacked into the compact being attended to by medics.

I have seen an 18-wheeler bump-and-go a service truck belonging to the Highway Patrol.

I have been in 10 mph traffic jams for 35 minutes with no discernable reason for the slowdown, all the while, inches from my car door, motorcycles pass on the inside at 70 mph and the carpool lane on my left is speeding along at a steady 75 mph, one car every minute or so.

I have seen drivers applying makeup, reading the paper, texting (eyes down; everyone seems to do that), talking to themselves (eyes fixed, free hand waving, sometimes both hands), watching a small video screen, iPad, iPhone, whatever, riding the brake while accelerating, indicating left when turning right, changing lanes and then changing their mind and, oops, changing it again and again (one car was indicating, left, right, left, right again like Christmas lights).

Oh, and they have a new lane for the rich. For $4.10 you can drive in the carpool lane and get to work on time. I called the LA DOT and was told their revenues are up 200 percent in the last year! Well, heck yes, let me see, pay extra money to keep moving or sit in a traffic jam. Tough decision? Nope.

They pimp their cars on the outside so that, stuck in traffic, fellow lemmings have something to look at through the fumes. Dense smog, really throat-biting. And these lemmings do it every day, hour after hour.

Would someone please show them a good cliff?

Peter Riva, formerly of Amenia Union, lives in New Mexico.