More About Words and Driving

First of all, let me do a little reputation-defending. I will preface this by saying that my vagueness in setting this up is not intentional, but is the result of an alcohol-induced haze I was in at the time.

Anyway.

I had a conversation with some people at some point in the past couple weeks that involved my use of the term “jerry-rigged” to describe a makeshift solution of some kind. One of these people informed me that this term is offensive to Germans, a reference to their stereotypically shoddy workmanship, and said that “nigger-rigged” is a similar term still, apparently, used in some places. I was, this person asserted, insulting my own people.

I was certainly taken aback by this; I had never heard of Germans being called “jerries,” and was unaware of any reputation of poor production quality. In fact, I was under the impression that German engineering is something to be admired. But mortified by my naïve insensitivity, I filed the term away in my internal “Things That Are Not to be Said” directory, and cross-referenced the entry to “Embarrassing Things I Have Said,” for good, if totally involuntary, measure.

My workday being what it is, though, yesterday I had a few extra minutes and set about Googling this issue in hopes of discovering some explanation. I will paraphrase for you what I found; but first, let me tell you the most important thing, which is that I am not racist.

Jerry-rigged is a hybrid of two other terms: jury-rigged and jerry-built. The latter has a negative connotation and describes sub-par workmanship. Its historical origins are unclear, but some websites do indeed reference a possible connection to the WWI-era nickname for German soldiers and their apparent reputation for badly constructed machinery. Jury-rigged, however, describes a solution of an improvised or makeshift nature, and most websites trace its origin to nautical endeavors (“jury” in this case meaning temporary, and “rig” referring to the sailing structure on a ship) that long predate the British/American nickname for Germans.

Conclusion: though my word usage was technically incorrect, I did not commit the soft bigotry of colloquial misappropriation, nor did I sully my ancestral heritage. In terms of unusual tradeoffs, this is by most standards the desirable outcome.

Now on to other things, those less pressing than Defending My Honor.

I went to Syracuse on Monday for an interview. The trip out was actually better than I expected; the Four Seasons anthology on my iPod lasted the entire trip with more than a few songs to spare. I’m now a seasoned expert at navigating unfamiliar college campuses in unpleasant meteorological conditions (this one being exceptional cold), and I found the music building in short order. Basically, the college area of Syracuse is more hoppin’ than I expected it to be, and the music school itself perhaps a bit less, but I had a good talk with my interviewer, a composition professor. I am not terribly excited at the prospect of spending two years in central New York, but educationally and geographically speaking, things could certainly be far worse. And the opportunities that exist in a smaller school might well be beneficial to me.

The drive home, however, was less than ideal. About half an hour after my departure, the snow started, and simply did not let up. The two-hour-and-change drive grew to four-and-change as traffic slowed to 40, then 20, and finally to a 10 mile-per-hour crawl in heavy snow with little obvious delineation between lanes, and, for that matter, between highway and not-highway. At one point I came upon a police car from Cheektowaga, a first-ring suburb of Buffalo, which was obviously way out of its jurisdiction. I followed it loyally, figuring that police academy training and experience driving a rear-wheel drive car in Buffalo’s winters must have imparted a certain level of automotive enlightenment on its driver. By and large, the officer did not lead me astray. However at one point, while passing a long row of tractor-trailers, I became stuck in a rut that threatened to pull me to the left, into the median, and efforts to right my course were, for a time, wholly ineffective. This led to one of those heart-thumping-oh-my-god-I’m-going-to-drive-off-the-road-and-my-parents-will-never-let-me-live-this-down moments. Twenty years from now, I’ll be visiting my parents’ house for Thanksgiving and will offer to run to the store for some butter in a light snow shower, and my mom will say “do you really think that’s a good idea? You remember what happened last time.”

These are the thoughts that pass through my head in moments of vehicular crisis.

Let me also comment for a moment on the use of hazard lights in heavy snow. The way I’ve always heard it, hazard lights are to be used when driving in the following circumstances:

1) A vehicle is moving significantly slower than the speed of traffic (i.e. 45 in a 65 zone).

2) A vehicle has approached an obstacle (i.e. a traffic jam or accident, or horse-in-road) that causes the driver to slow dramatically or stop, and wishes to warn drivers approaching from the rear. This is mostly used on highways or other roads where stop-and-go traffic is unexpected.

3) Heavy rain or snow causes the driver to slow significantly, and he wishes to warn other drivers of his sudden change in speed.

But many drivers use their hazard lights constantly when in particularly inclement weather. I can understand the instinct, but I would like to offer the following arguments against this practice:

1) Vehicles that do not have rearward-facing yellow directional lights are wired such that the brakelights will serve a double purpose: they indicate both braking and directional use. This is fine when only one directional is used at a time, as in normal driving. But when both brake lights blink while the vehicle is moving, as in the case of hazard lights in the circumstances outlined above, this serves to completely obscure small adjustments to speed that might be crucial to a following driver. Likewise, drivers of cars without ABS are taught to pump the brakes to maintain traction when stopping, which, wouldn’t you know it, looks a whole fucking lot like four-way-flashers.

2) In situations where EVERYONE has slowed because of poor weather, you need not warn other drivers that you are going slowly. It is taken for granted. Everyone is driving slowly.

If I seem unusually passionate about this issue, it is only because it took twenty minutes and a considerable amount of concentration to overtake a perpetually blinking Ford Tempo that proved to be significant hazard on the road, given it’s driver’s predilection for stomping on the brakes in short, undetectable bursts. Also, by way of a third, more personal, argument, let me add that it’s freakin’ distracting, all that flashing. Ditto for the dude in the Tahoe with the 24” rearward-facing TV. This is no time to share Aladdin with your fellow travelers, chief, and furthermore, how can you see out your back window with a TV in the way?

He was probably German. Fucking jerries.