I drove 3 and a half hours from Atlanta to Huntsville for Christmas the other day. Of course, from my goal to avoid all possible traffic by leaving at 11:30pm, came rain. The entire drive. Just goes to show, nothing in life is cut and dry.
Anyway, every time I had to adjust my windshield wiper speed (don't you hate cars without the “dimmer speed” adjustment on the first setting?), it reminded me of the most ridiculous driving theory I've ever heard, from my college roommate, Garrett Avery.
In college, Garrett used to drive in the rain without his windshield wipers on. He would slow down, strain his neck forward, put on his brights, whatever it took to keep from turning them on. I was like, “Dude, just turn on your wipers, that's what they're for!!” And then he proceeded to tell me the strangest thing: he had been conditioned by his dad to never use them unless absolutely necessary. Like if he started using them too often, they would somehow become a crutch in his life.
WHAT??! I mean, sure, that argument works with medicines. Like if I start taking 10 Advils to cure every hangover I get, eventually I'm going to develop a tolerance and turn to Oxycontin or something to get through the next day sitting on the couch watching DVDs. But WINDSHIELD WIPERS?? They're ALWAYS FUCKING THERE! That's like practicing long division with a calculator in front of you because you're afraid robots are going to take over the Earth.
So every time Garrett drove in the rain I would explain this to him, and then he would reluctantly turn them on, always prefacing the move with some kind of disclaimer like, “Alright, but don't blame me if they don't work next time and we have a wreck.” Like I was the enabler in the relationship.
To this day, he is the only reason I've ever been involved in a car accident. Ironically, it was sunny and clear. Although I think he may have had his wipers on for practice.