Right after moving to Massachusetts, I wrote a post about my car, pondering whether or not I would keep it were I to stay here permanently. Since I now know I will be here for a while, and have been meeting more people that live all around the area (Brookline, Waltham, Watertown, Cambridge, and even Northampton), I’ve decided to keep it for now. I’m moving to Cambridge right after Thanksgiving (more details to follow) and the parking situation is ideal – just $8.00/year for an on-street parking permit. But since I’ve been driving a lot more and must prepare to continue this feat, I thought I’d enlighten my readers on the wonders of Boston traffic.
I always wondered why Brian would get so angry driving in Saginaw. He’d yell, curse, and complain to no end about the sporadic stopping and slowing down by the (mostly elderly) drivers there. I knew he grew up watching his father drive in Boston and then learned to drive in Atlanta, but didn’t really understand his latent frustration until I began driving here myself.
The first thing I noticed was that cars rarely ever stop. Even while sitting in traffic, they inch up, bit by bit, until the line starts moving again. And no one waits to be let into a line; they just go, and if you don’t want a crumpled bumper, you have no choice but to let them in. Being a nice little Midwesterner who not only waits politely for my turn, I also expected to be thanked when I “let” someone in front of me. Not so – not only did I get honked at if I didn’t edge my way in front of moving traffic, I’ve never gotten so much as a nod from thankful motorists that edge their way in front of me.
Secondly, I learned to honk liberally. I could be driving a neon-pink hummer with flashing LED lights all over it, but I would still be virtually invisible if I didn’t lay on the horn. And unlike in the Midwest, where a horn could mean anything from, “Hey Bob” to “F You,” here it just means one thing: “Move.” Someone doesn’t go the split second a light turns green? Move! Someone cuts you off? Move! Someone is driving the speed limit (how dare them)? MOVE! I’ve even been honked at for not going at a red light because the other light was already yellow. “You’re not willing to risk the life and limbs of you and the poor undergrad trying to cross the street? HONK!”
Finally, a word on parking: Every day I thank Mike and the god of fortuitous used-car sales that I have a VW Beetle. This is an old city with narrow streets and even more narrow-minded parkers. Give me a springy steering wheel, keen senses, and a bag of quarters, and my Bug and I can park anywhere.
And as for my Bug, I’m pretty sure I heard it breathe a sigh of relief when I decided not to sell it. Because as challenging as driving is here, we both tend to have a lot of fun.
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