I-Thou Driving

Here in the Big Little, all driving is negotiated. When I first came here, I, of a rule-bound DMV regulation-adhering upbringing, was appalled. “These people have no concept of the Right of Way,” I frequently observed. It’s true. Left turns here, for example, are a breed apart from those where I grew up. In the Midwest, an oncoming driver sticks to her rights and the left turner waits in frustration for an opening. Seizing a too-narrow opening earns you wrath and danger. Here, however, oncoming drivers overflow with grace for would-be turn makers. Velocity slows, lights flash, hands wave -- all to encourage the turner to dash in front of the oncoming car without fear. The same is true for pedestrians hoping to cross and aspirant mergers from the right. Drivers from Chicago face a big adjustment when they move here.

Why this generosity? I think it’s environmental. Roads in the Big Little are narrow, mostly with only one lane. Cars waiting for a wide enough break in traffic can cause a big back-up behind. There’s always space between cars, but how is it apportioned? In many driving societies an unclaimed space between you and the preceding care is an effrontery, even a failure if left unfilled. It’s an individually consumed resource, claimed in quantities too small for social betterment.

Here in Big Little, the empty space between cars is more of a public good. it is granted to those who want to change directions, to cross over, or merge. By moving slowly, I create a space for you and all those behind you, who might be stuck for a long time as you wait to cross traffic without threat from a velocity-drunk self-maximizer.

But in the Big Little, it goes further than that. Not only do we let up on the accelerator – driving simply so that others may simply drive – we communicate about it with the aforementioned waves and flashes. Once, in Africa – in a capital city with terrible traffic jams - I discussed the road culture with a taxi driver. “We drive in negotiation,” he said. He told me that if he was in a real hurry, he tapped his left wrist; neighboring drivers would let him in. I haven’t tried that here, but our traffic is less acute and our negotiations less elaborate.

In driver’s education in Michigan, we learned the rules of the road created an automaton, with no personal initiative or creative decisions. This seemed right to me. Why trust your life to the individual judgment of others? But I’ve been often stuck trying to change direction in Michigan. “Why won’t these people let me in?” I once asked Owen when we were visiting. “They’re not from Rhode Island,” he said.

It’s only right to admit that I'm sometime terrified to see how the rules of the road can be improvised here. But there’s usually space for all. Not always, but often, those who share the road will recognize you and your need. “I-Thou driving,” I call it.