Road Hubris

I do not have road rage. When someone makes a stupid manoeuvre, I know that I have no right to judge, because I know that I myself am always only moments away from making a stupider manoeuvre. What I do have is road hubris. A completely unmerited over-confidence while driving, wildly disproportionate to any level of skill or finesse. Over the past year, it has cost me a fair bit of both dignity and coin, so I’m here to fess up.

This past summer, I drove to Wisconsin to see a friend. On the way, I passed many a toll booth. Operative word being passed.

The first one was an accident. I didn’t get in the exit lane fast enough, and lo, before I knew it, there was the toll lane speeding by. I was contrite. I exited for the next few toll booths and dutifully paid my debt to society. Though why toll roads exist at all is a mystery and offence to me. I mean, conceptually, I understand their purpose, but in such a red-blooded American gunslinging state as Wisconsin, you’d think they’d balk at the idea and label it socialism. It would be much more thematically consistent for them to let you use their roads in exchange for an honest day’s work at the family cheese farm. But I’m speaking based on knowing two (2) people from Wisconsin and having watched a lot of Gus Johnson videos, so maybe my knowledge of the culture is off.

The problem with my innocent mistake of missing the first toll booth, is that I found out if you just drive through the EZ Pass lane without and EZ Pass, the EZ Pass gods do not instantly smite you off the face of the earth. Those things attached to the over-highway arch sure look like cameras, but you never know, they could double as Star Wars-style blasters. Although, in the back of mind, I knew something bad would happen later in my life if I continued this behaviour, the lack of an immediate punishment made me overconfident. It was too good a “let’s just see what happens” moment to pass up.

The rest of the trip there and back was pretty 50/50. Sometimes I’d go through the toll, if I felt I had skipped too many in a row, but sometimes the traffic was bad, and I was not going to slow my progress even further for a system that didn’t even align with my personal beliefs! I defy anyone who’s been struggling through Chicago traffic in a construction zone for an hour to make any other choice. Also sometimes I just did it to feel alive. Balance. I made it home safely, and forgot all about the transgressions I had committed while on the open road.

Months went by, and I thought I was in the clear. I thought since I was in Kentucky, they wouldn’t be able to find me, or that the government would be too lazy to punish such a paltry offence. But my sins found me out. Some of the first mail I received at my new house was from the highway law enforcement of Wisconsin and Illinois. There they were, in irrefutable black and white, the images the road cameras had captured of my fat little Suzuki running for her life.

Now, the Wisconsinites were merciful. They simply made me pay the tolls I had skipped, which was like a $5 total. But in this great country, we have a thing where laws differ from state to state, and guess what happens when you drive through an Illinois state toll booth?

Apparently you get fined $60.

I did learn my lesson, I GUESS. When I went to Canada I paid all my tolls. But I also pasted the images they sent of my car zooming past illegally into my journal to cherish forever, so idk if that indicates any kind of truly repentant heart.