The last time I encountered a driver with similar tactical skill to my own on the freeways was in 1999 or 2000. I was driving my '84 Volvo 740 (normally aspirated, 4spd manual w/ overdrive) headed south on I-80 through moderate to heavy traffic in Albany, making good headway. The driver of a late-model 2-door Tercel took interest in my bobbing & weaving and decided to give chase. He pushed hard, making more dangerous moves than I, and it wasn't long before he passed me. In my complete and utter stupidity at the time, I decided it was "game on." Within seconds, we had passed the battling stage. We were at war.
As we entered the limits of the next city, traffic became thicker and more erratic, varying from 50mph to under 20 in a zone where the usual flow of traffic is 70. The Tercel pilot used his vehicle's tiny size to his full advantage, fitting through gaps I could barely squeeze through if I was driving perpendicular to the road. I used my slight power-to-weight advantage to strike more suddenly through openings, and I raised my sensory awareness to the redline to gather the most precise real-time data on the cars ahead, how they were moving in relation to eachother, who was preparing to make what move, who was driving in what way, and what routes would most likely be at my disposal 5 to 15 seconds ahead. By using strategy and foresight, I regained the lead, but that is only where the real challenge began.
In previous freeway battles I had learned how to control traffic and use it against my opponents, or to lead them down rolling "dead end" traps by appearing to get frustrated at missing an opportunity that was really not an opportunity at all. Against this Tercel, though, none of my tricks stuck. Again, his car was too short to get boxed in, and he was too fast to react. We traded places several more times, but for him, despair began to set in. Once I saw him briefly use the carpool lane to get an advantage (generally taboo in these engagements), and worse still, at one point he drove on the shoulder to get around a car. Capitalizing on his wavering focus, I strengthened my resolve and began relying 90% on strategy and patience. It paid off, and he wouldn't pass me again.
That was then, but this is now. This evening, on my normal commute home, traffic thickened where it usually does, and rather than sitting back and going with the flow, I decided I wanted to get home as quickly as safely possible. It was time to "beat." When I say "beat," I'm referring what I call "beating" through traffic -- getting to the correct lane at the correct time to maintain the most forward momentum safely possible. It does not involve cutting people off, making sudden or erratic, unsignalled moves, using illegal lanes, or speeding. It involves obeying all traffic laws, leaving enough room for one's self and others to make mistakes or react to random hazards, all the while getting from point A to point B in the shortest time reasonable.
When I drive, I maintain three zones of awareness in all directions around my car. The first is the closest to me, and covers the car behind me, the two adjacent lanes from about a carlength behind me to a few carlengths in front of me, and the two cars in front of me, or whatever is within a second of space ahead of me. Within this zone, I know every single thing that is happening. I know who is on their cel phone, who is getting something for their kid out of a bag behind the seat, who is on cruise control, and who is thinking about changing lanes. If anything within this zone moves more than 2 inches, I know about it. The next zone extends out another several carlengths behind me and another second or two in front of me, and usually spills over to two lanes on one of my sides. Within this band of space, I stay aware of relative speeds as well as any unusual or potentially unsafe activity, so if something goes suddenly wrong in front of or behind me, I will be able to react immediately and escape without having to look first. The in the third, outermost zone, I collect information at the lowest fidelity and with the least consistent coverage. This is the range where I notice the slow minivan coming around the cloverleaf to merge onto the freeway 1/4 mile ahead, or the car 6 vehicles ahead that I can't actually see, but that I know is going slower than everyone back to me because the cars between us are changing lanes in sequence to get around.
When I go into "beating" mode, all of these zones expand dramatically. My eyes open wide, my hands go to "10 and 2" or sometimes just "8 and 2" positions, and every available brain cell is activated. My head stays steady, but my eyes shift incessantly, checking every mirror, maintaining a constant read on the situation around and about me. My second zone of awareness extends as far as the 3rd normally does, allowing me to plan lane changes 10 to sometimes upwards of 20 seconds before I need to make them to keep from getting stuck in a slowing lane. I watch for motorcycles splitting lanes behind me and people inching to one side of a lane or another to look for faster routes.
Now, back to this evening. I was beating up I-880, running the normal lane change decision tree algorithms that say such things as, "if the metering lights for the _________ Ave. onramp are on, stay in lane 4 until brake lights come on 50yds ahead, then go to lane 3 until speeds equalize after the left bend, and return to lane 4." Etcetera. Everything was going pretty normally. As usual, not a single car on the freeway was making as much consistent forward progress as my own. Except for one. It was a bone stock, maroon, early 90's Toyota Corolla. It wasn't following any of the patterns I normally observe, such as:
- Yaaaay I'm in the faster lane... booo it slowed down :(
- Yaaaay I'm switching to the faster lane... booo it slowed down :(
- Yaaaay I'm switching to faster lanes to the left because left lanes are always faster! Booo the left lane came to a complete stop :(
- Frickin', frackin' traffic! Argh! Ok now that lane is faster lemmie go there. CRAP! Now that lane is faster lemmie go there! CRAP! (Lather, rinse, repeat.)
- Zzzzzzz I'll get there when I get there.
No, this Corolla was making safe, timely moves and maintaining forward momentum. Many of its moves were, in fact, the exact same ones I was making, only with some of them, his timing was better than my own. Fascinating! The driver clearly knew this traffic, and had both strategic and tactical skill! For the first time since I settled into this commute late last year, I wasn't the getting from point A to point B faster than everyone else.
My first instinct was to step up my activity to try to keep up with this traffic-master, but my sense of safety wouldn't allow. There wasn't any quick & easy solution to this quandary; whether it was pure skill or skill combined with supreme luck, this guy had the clear tactical advantage. I was frustrated, but inspired at the same time. This guy thought just like me, only a hair better and faster, and before long, he was 6 or so cars ahead. I had only one last hope of keeping up -- resting on the laurels of my strategic skills. It would my traffic-beating algorithms against his. For the next few miles, we did the dance in lock step. He would make the right move at the right spot, and when I got to that same spot, I'd make the same move. Together, we were making tremendous headway, but relative to eachother, we were in a deadlock. Then, at one of the most critical decision points of the route, our plans diverged. It was the lane 4/lane 3 50yd/merge scenario I mentioned above. I was seeing all of the standard patterns of traffic flow and the metering lights for the merge lane were on, but lane 4 slowed down at the point where it normally does only when the metering lights are off. My rules said based on the symptoms, I should go to lane 3, but not all of the pieces of the puzzle were in place. I was confused. Something was wrong. The Corolla made it to lane 3 just seconds before the slowdown, again displaying his undeniable tactical mastery, but I stayed in place, trying to recalibrate & recalculate based on the strange readings the road was giving me. The 'Rolla began working good momentum in lanes 3 and 2, a strategy that I have made work in other situations, but never this one. I stuck to my guns and followed the rules that had always worked for me, moving to lane 3 for a stint, then returning to 4. The glitch proved to be just that, a glitch, like a stray eddy in an otherwise predictable stream, and quickly lane 4 was doing its thing, moving at a consistent speed while the other 3 experienced unpredictable turbulence (I like to use analogies to fluid dynamics because it's a fun and often very accurate way to model the way traffic works). The Corolla continued to work lanes 3 & 2, but his was a losing battle. I passed him once, then fell behind as he caught a burst of speed, then I went by again, this time not to see him again. Another half-mile down the road, where lane 4 becomes an "exit only" affair, I skewed my second zone of perception to the left and played the brakelight patterns in all four lanes to make my final move over to lane 1 with ease.
It was bittersweet. I had met, and defeated, an honorable, responsible, law-abiding, true traffic master.
You, my friend, the driver of that maroon Corolla, whoever you are, have earned my respect. Perhaps we'll meet again some day; it would surely be an honor.
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