That Round Thing on Your Dashboard with the Needle and Numbers

Yesterday, on Route 93, which for southern New Hampshire -- indeed, most of New Hampshire -- is the main north-south artery, disaster struck in the form of a 40+ car pile-up, creating a traffic jam that stretched for miles in both directions. Now, this hardly compares to the 9-day traffic jam recently reported near Beijing, but when you're late for work or conversely, are after a long day at the office and just want to get home, it's annoying enough. Luckily, nobody was killed and nobody was seriously injured. The byline to this story read, "Bad Weather Caused Major Crash, Police Say."

There were some cultural assumptions built into that statement. New England drivers -- Massachusetts moreso than most, though this trait is apparent throughout the region -- seem to believe that cars are only capable of going either 5mph or 75mph; nothing in between. It just wouldn't have occurred to the drivers yesterday morning on Route 93, who were driving in a long-predicted snow storm (which had actually turned out milder than forecasted), to slow down in white-out conditions. Now, accidents can happen anywhere and they can catch any of us unawares, but did 40(+) separate accidents happen yesterday on Route 93? Of course not; you had drivers who just wanted to get home who chucked caution to the wind and went the speed they'd normally drive in the summer on icy roads in near-blizzard conditions, and were shocked -- Shocked, I tell you! -- to find themselves in an accident. While 40 is a bit unusual, multi-car accidents are surprisingly common in New England, and I am not alone in attributing it to the local mentality that physics (or laws) be damned, people have a right to drive 75 mph regardless of road conditions.

Driving in New Hampshire, Part IV

I have a theory. New Hampshirites worship Dunkin Donuts -- that much we've established. However, I think this obsession went from quaint, benign trait to life-threatening behavior the moment Dunkin Donuts -- or possibly, some other entrepreneurial soul -- invented cup holders. Now again, this is just a theory, but stay with me here.

This invention, the cup holder, forced New Hampshirites to make a decision, often while doing 85 mph in the midst of traffic. Indeed, traffic may be the important variable here because as the state's population has grown so quickly over the past couple decades, New Hampshirites have suddenly had to start dealing with other cars on the road rather than just the occasional skittish moose. That cup holder was the clencher, though -- it forced New Hampshirite drivers to divide their attention for a split second, a crucial split second. In the midst of traffic on a one-lane highway, with a large one-ton Chevy flatbed with several old engine blocks loosely chained on the back coming right at them in the on-coming lane, and a moose standing pensively off to the side on the shoulder, surrounded maybe by a flock of kamikaze turkeys loitering threateningly at the moose's feet, the New Hampshire driver has a decision to make: the cup holder for a fresh hit of java to help get them through this, or the turn signal.

Folks, I am here to tell you that the cup holder wins every time. Consequently, when driving in New Hampshire, you cannot and should not expect the drivers around you to signal their intention. As far as they're concerned, the fact that they are turning should be heads-up enough for you to discern that they intended to turn anyway, and they make that contention with full clarity, having just sipped some of the bitter black stuff.

Deadly New Hampshire, Part II: Turkeys

Legend has it that Ben Franklin, Founding Father and all around scientific genius -- while also being an active womanizer on the side in his spare time -- lamented that the bald eagle had been made our national bird, instead wishing the turkey had been chosen:

"I am on this account not displeased that the Figure is not known as a Bald Eagle, but looks more like a Turkey. For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America . . . He is besides, though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on."

Clearly, Ben had never driven in New Hampshire. New Hampshire's roads are narrow canyons, with the tall tree line coming right up to the shoulders, limiting your vision up to the next twist in the road - and as one fellow non-native friend observed, there seems to have been a law in New Hampshire that no road could be straight for more than 2 miles. Now, this makes for some very scenic driving, but in the autumn -- when this place is about as scenic as scenic gets -- it also provokes kamikaze turkeys. It is extremely common to see these fat fowl beside the road, munching on fallen acorns, bunched together in smaller or larger flocks. The problem is that in the autumn for some reason -- irritable from hormones? -- they stand and stare at you while your car is approaching, only to panic at the very last possible moment and attempt to fly across the road, right in front of your car.

Now, if you've ever sat and looked at a turkey for any length of time -- and this includes the one you see in your Dutch oven each year at the end of November -- you can't help but notice that turkeys are not the most aerodynamic birds. In a pinch they can indeed fly, but only for short spurts, and with great struggles to achieve any altitude. This all adds up to a suicidal butterball alongside the single-lane road deciding to launch itself across the road just as you're driving by on a trajectory that places it at about grill (i.e., radiator) or at best, windshield height. If you drive in this beautiful state, particularly in the autumn, you will notice deep and dark skid marks all along the roads. Take heed; beware the ballistic butterballs. We've never had that kind of problem with bald eagles; something to consider, Ben.

Driving in New Hampshire, Part III

New Hampshire is chock full of small towns which have a long history as small farming communities, and if they're in the southern third or so of the state, they are likely growing in population. This has become a problem because, well, farmers weren't meticulous about their naming conventions, and over time, a lot of strange road names came into being. This in itself was not really a problem as all the locals knew what was where, but over the past few decades as New Hampshire has experienced a surge in population growth in the form of immigration from other states, navigating the back roads has become particularly challenging for the newcomers.

Case in point, as reported by local news WMUR: Barrington, NH -- about 30 miles east of state capital Concord, along the Maine border -- undertook this past week a comprehensive overhaul of its road names to end years of historical confusion. The changes were not just because of fussy newcomers tired of getting lost on the way to the local food store; police and fire services have experienced numerous problems with confused calls into the 911 emergency phone service, leaving rescuers to try to figure out whether the emergency is on Canaan Road, Canaan Back Road, or Old Canaan Road, for instance. It took Barrington 5 years to plan and implement this huge re-naming of many town streets -- keeping in mind that thousands of people and businesses in Barrington, NH got a new address last week, though they hadn't moved anywhere -- and all indications so far are that things have rolled out smoothly. While the state 911 service has applauded Barrington's efforts, they also threw out the heavy hint that this sort of thing has to be done in many other New Hampshire towns as well. So if you're driving in some small New Hampshire town -- and odds are, if you're driving in New Hampshire, you're in a small town -- and some local tells you that what you're looking for is on some Canaan Road, beware........