Queen of the Left Lane

That's what my Dad used to call me. I spent most of senior year of high school zipping around Brooklyn's Belt Parkway at breakneck speed. Or at least as fast as the heavy traffic would allow. So you can imagine my surprise when I discovered upon moving to Detroit that I couldn't drive for sh*t. Sure, I had not driven regularly in four years, but driving is driving, right?

Driving, as it turns out, IS different in Detroit. The utter lack of public transportation forces you to drive everywhere. For a girl raised on the subways and buses of NY, that's been a difficult transition to make.

Highways out here aren't two or three lanes. They have four lanes excluding exit ramps and merging lanes. And the speed limit tops out at 70 miles per hour! While that speed might be a ceiling elsewhere, here in Detroit, home of the automobile, that limit is merely a guideline.

All of this would be manageable if drivers were responsible. Unfortunately, people treat 696 at rush hour like its their own personal NASCAR track. Cars weave and dart through traffic, recklessly ignoring poor, inexperienced drivers like myself. Its no wonder I see a horrific car accident on a daily basis.

And so, not only have I moved from NY to Michigan, but I have also moved from the left lane to the right. It is there that I stay, white knuckled and fearful, as an angry Ford F-150 truck rides up my ass.