I took this shot from the right lane through the rear view window of my 2012 Ford Escape (230,000 miles) on I-840 between Wilson and Williamson Counties. The speed limit was posted at 70, and I was still going 80, having just jumped from the passing lane to get out of the way of the pickup you see here.

When I was in the left lane, he came up on me fast, close to my bumper, pressing me to get out of his way. Problem is, when I did, he came up on the driver formerly to my front, who also driving around 80. After spending a few moments tormenting this new obstacle, he jumped to the right lane and came charging up at me afresh. And that’s when I took this shot before he once again closed the gap.

So I ask, “Really? You have to drive 90 in a 70 mph zone, and to do so menacingly and recklessly?” It’s a question I’ve asked repeatedly, especially during the last decade, as I’ve commuted from Nashville up into Kentucky to teach at Southern Seminary in Louisville and serve as an interim pastor in Henderson. Time and again, I’ve drifted above the posted limit (but still within the speed range indulged by the police, consistent with a reasonable flow of traffic [see “legal realism”]). But that’s no protection against the Sons of Jehu.

Speaking of tailgating, I still believe in my 1960s Arkansas driver’s manual, the one that said you needed to leave one car space ahead of you for each ten miles you were driving, e.g., six lengths for 60 mph. It’s not much, but at least it gives you a little time to react if the guy ahead hits his brakes or does something else tricky.

Go ahead. Think your thought that I’m a cranky old senior irritated at young whippersnappers who have the skills, reflexes, and high mission to negotiate traffic with aplomb. But I can read both the signs and my speedometer, and I know I’m not puttering down the road oblivious to the reality or the reasonable desires of other drivers.

I have to wonder, were these guys raised by wolves or tutored by self-identifying Aryans? Did they get, “Look, Son. Drive as fast as you can, albeit watchful of road conditions, equipment failure, and intrusive cops. Shove your way down the highway, bullying those in your way ad seriatum”; or perhaps, “Watch me. I can get anybody to move over if I crowd them closely enough”; or “You know what we loved about Dale Earnhardt? He was The Intimidator?”

To my great chagrin, I was pulled over in Fort Worth in the early 1980s for driving 35 in a 20 mph school zone. I’d looked down to adjust the radio or air conditioners, and I’d missed the change in posting. Never mind that I was driving on a four-lane road, mid-morning when no school kids were in sight. So I had the choice of paying an $84 fine (a near-devastating figure for this seminary student in those days) or taking a Saturday morning behavior-mod course, so I went with Option B.

It wasn’t bad. Yes, we had some group therapy, whereby we were led to reflect on our need to drive fast. We had only  chairs, and not couches, from which to unburden ourselves of psychoses. But then we got into some interesting facts, the most memorable of which were computations of the surprisingly small time saved by speeding. So I have to ask these 90 mph road warriors what’s so important that you have to act like a jackass to get there? Are you delivering transplant organs to awaiting surgeons? Are your buds awaiting you with Buds at the roadhouse? Are you afraid you won’t have time to gulp down a sandwich and make it to the first pitch of your church-league softball game? 

Speaking of church-league softball, I recall the counsel of the youth director at the church I pastored back in Arkansas. When a generous church member gave us money for a van and I said we needed to make arrangements to ID the vehicle with our logo, the staffer objected. His concern was that any bad driving would reflect poorly on the church. Well, yes, but let’s not drive badly. 

Which has now gotten me to thinking, “Do I ever see a Christian fish symbol on one of those aggressive pickups?” (No, they’re not all pickups, but the frequency of abuse by pickup-driven-by-young-male is notable.) I don’t think so. And I have to suppose that a driver with one of those images would cool his jets, lest he bring dishonor to Christ. So let me suggest that we drive as if we had some sort of testimony on our vehicles. I see it on trucks from time to time, and I bet they’re conscious of their behavior on the road. Why don’t we all drive as if we displayed bumper stickers or decals declaring ourselves born-again believers. And let us do our best to cope in an identifiably Christian manner with those whose driving style would be more naturally identified with a pentagram or swastika. 

Still working on that one.

Of course, speeding and tailgating aren’t the only sub-Christian behaviors on the road. I could do a Proverbs 30:18-19 on this: 

There are four things that are too mysterious for me to understand: a driver who approaches you at speed from a side road with a stop sign, halting only at the last minute, scaring you into thinking he’s going to T-bone you; a driver who ignores your signal that you want to shift lanes in the normal flow of traffic, refusing to let up a bit on the gas to give you space when it would cost him nothing; a driver who rushes up on the other cars fast when it’s clear that the group is bunched at a stoplight, wearing down his brake pads pointlessly; a driver so preoccupied with his interior “office” that, once the turn arrow appears, he lets a big gap develop in front of him before realizing that the light for which we’ve all been waiting has changed, and that several drivers will be stuck through another cycle because of his dawdling.

In one of my earlier sermons, preached while I was still at Wheaton, before seminary, I used thoughtful driving as a sermon illustration for Titus 2:10, which urges us to so behave as to “adorn the doctrine the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.” I know it appears as an instruction to slaves, but I still think it fits our Christian duty as drivers.