Outwit. Outlast. Out-Drive.

Posted on | April 16, 2010 | No Comments

I commute to work every day by driving. It’s faster than taking public transportation (mostly due to the way the T tracks are set up in relation to the location of my apartment and office) and I get free parking at work, so it’s the best option.

Driving, however, requires me to have the patience of a saint when dealing with other drivers who clearly have no concept of how to drive in Boston. I’m not even a native of Boston and I picked up the rules pretty quickly. But some thankless idiots insist on doing dumb things, like slowing down when a sign says “construction” – even though the construction is on a different road, in a different town and takes place at night.

Mostly, though, commuting means having to deal with those people who think they should be following the rules of the road that they learned way back in their high school’s Driver’s Ed class.

This is Boston. We do things differently here.

First, some basics:

Your directional signals (known around these parts as “blinkers”) are optional; use ‘em, don’t use ‘em – it’s entirely up to you. Most of us don’t use them. Instead, we just sort of weave in and out of lanes, trying to bypass all the slowpokes.

Speed limits are mostly arbitrary suggestions. The unwritten, unspoken rule is to go as fast as you can without getting stopped for speeding. This, of course, will vary from road to road and day to day. When in doubt, just follow the flow of traffic and if you really want to avoid pissing people off, drive at least 5-10 miles over the posted speed limit. Only tourists and old people pay attention to the signs.

Yellow lights do not mean slow down. Quite the contrary! Here in Boston, they mean “speed up so you can make it through the light before it turns red.” If the light happens to turn red while you’re speeding up to make it through the light, just continue to sail through the light. Slamming on your breaks will merely anger the person behind you.

On highways, the lines on the roads are there for a reason – pick a pair and stay in between them. On side and local streets, the lines are a bit more nebulous. If the lines say it’s two-lane road (one car on each side), but there’s just enough room to make it a four-lane road, then by all means, squeeze in there. Related: don’t be a hog by driving in the center of the road if there’s enough room for two cars – even if the lines say otherwise.

Now let’s discuss merging. I spend a great deal of my time merging: on to the highway, off of the highway, into the parking garage, out of the parking garage, etc. Merging in Boston is like survival of the fittest: only the pushiest survive. Boston drivers will do everything they can to never let a car merge in front of them. This is a sign of weakness. Instead, we like to get as close as we possibly can to the car in front of us. That way, the merger can’t possibly merge in and must wait until we go by. Conversely, if we are the merger, we will do everything we can to be as pushy as possible and cut our way to the front of any merging line.

Giving directions is a little tricky. For starters, Route 128 is also Route 95, except when it’s also Route 93 (which is not the same thing as Route 95). When driving in Boston proper, you’ll find that some roads are one-way, some roads are two-way and most roads don’t have street signs or street names, so you just have to sort of guess. If you find yourself in Dorchester, Allston-Brighton, Hyde Park, Charlestown, Roxbury or Jamaica Plain, don’t worry. You’re still in Boston. We just call it something different. And since I’m a Rhode Islander by birth, I’m naturally inclined to give directions based on landmarks (e.g., “drive until you see the large neon Citgo sign, then turn left.”). In most cases, these landmarks may no longer exist, but I will still assume you know what I’m talking about (e.g., “where the Almac’s used to be”).

Follow these rules and you’ll do just fine when you drive in Boston. And if I ever happen to cut you off when merging, I’m sorry. It’s not personal. It’s survival.

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