Road Warriors

[ banked curve on Dixie Hwy ]

South Florida people are unquestionably in love with the motor car. No, that’s too mild a statement: they bloody worship the motor car. Especially something smallish and curvy (doesn’t have to be a Porsche — a cute little Chevy will do just fine, as long as it’s new). And don’t forget the deep tint on all the windows, windshield included … sun is brutal down here.

(Heheh. As with the movie star wannabe’s behind the sunglasses in L.A., it’s really more a matter of affected mystique. — Ed.)

One annoying thing you notice pretty quickly — especially on streets like Federal Highway — is all the motorcycles, big, loud and rude. (The bikes, silly. Did you think I meant the riders?) If B.K. is the Home of the Whopper, then Ft Lauderdale must be Home of the Chopper. And they ride in bunches [which is how a dozen or so of them got piled up in the Kinney Tunnel in February], and deliberately jerk their throttle around to maximize the emitted noise. (Car drivers do that too. Of course, every driver here thinks he’s Dale Earnhardt or something — seeing stock-car racing imagery on everything from food wrappers to fone cards does that to a guy, I guess.)

Stopping at red signals is regarded as optional for the first five seconds after the red appears. Left turns are protected for the first few seconds of a signal’s green phase, but at many intersections are also legal whenever it’s OK to go straight … as soon as there’s an opening in oncoming traffic you’re willing to chance. (And tough titty for any pedestrian who’s already part way across the street the car is turning into. Drivers will also cut down pedestrians when turning right, even if it means sneaking up past the walker’s left shoulder. It’s that red-meat mentality again: they won’t “give” even for large animals who got there first.) Broward County was recently ranked the most dangerous area in the USA for pedestrians — and second most dangerous for bicyclists. As Huey Lewis would say, “and from what I seen, I believe ’em”.

Funny how drivers here can’t find the turn-signal switch, but they sure know where their horn button is.

In S.Fla. you have your pick of well-known gasoline brands: Texaco, Shell, Citgo; all five of the baby Standards (Amoco, Mobil, Chevron, BP and Exxon); and even Fina, which I’d never seen before south of the 41^st parallel. It’s this last one that gives away the game, as far as I’m concerned: they’re just flaunting every possible name [pandering, it’s called] so visitors from far away will still find one they’re comfortable with. The stuff all arrives on the same two or three trucks, I’m sure.

So why no Unocal, then ? ’Cos Southerners despise California. Root of all moral evil, y’know. (But then they have a regional brand called Hess — a name that fairly screams ‘Nazism’. Hey, that stuff plays here.)