I spent my undergraduate life without a car in a little Missouri town called Kirks-ville. For the uninitiated, Missouri is the home state of Rush Limbaugh and shares its two real cities with other states. The only happening place in my rambunctious town of 15,000 people was a Wal-Mart, located about seven miles from where I lived. Since walking was not an option, I was pretty much cut off from civilization unless I could beg or borrow a ride.
I came to Tempe in August for my graduate studies with a car of my own, and I was excited. Not any more. Driving in this town is driving me nuts.
First, gas prices seem to be defying all norms. I don't expect the 99 cents per gallon that we had in Kirksville during the Clinton years, but $2 per gallon or more does make me uncomfortable.
To make matters worse for the pocketbook, about 40 percent of the drivers in the great state of Arizona are uninsured or underinsured. The effect of this on my car insurance charges is unpleasant, and I will leave it at that.
I know enough people have complained about parking on and around campus. Considering how disorganized the whole parking facade is, I believe that Parking and Transit Services deserves all the misery they can get. I park my car under the Brickyard on Mill Avenue, where the computer science department is located.
Whenever there is an event, the parking facility is thrown open to anyone willing to pay. The problem arises when folks who forked out $225 at the beginning of the year for a decal find it hard to find a vacant spot.
"There might be a spot in there somewhere," says the attendant. That does not cut it if I am late for a meeting.
It would also be criminal to forget the construction on campus. Lemon Drive is shut until June. As the icing on the cake, we have the narrowest passages imaginable next to the bookstore. I am still waiting for my badge of honor for managing to get my car through that area without running into any of the barriers.
If you've seen the movie "Office Space," you may remember the portion during the opening credits where the lead actor is stuck in traffic. At the same time, an old person is walking on the pavement. The whole time, the pedestrian is ahead of the guy in the car because of the traffic. That is exactly how I feel when I find myself on Rural Road after 5 p.m.
In this case however, it's my roommate who waves cunningly at me as he bikes away while I slam my hands on the steering wheel.
If that was not bad enough, I have now discovered that driving at ASU is bad for your eyes. As I navigate University Drive, I see the amazingly breathtaking amount of beauty ASU has to offer by way of the fairer sex.
At the bus stops and even crosswalks, I have a hard time keeping my eyes on the lookout for the impending green light. One of these days, I might just floor it instead of applying the brakes. On the other hand, if I were actually riding the FLASH I might have a better chance of talking to one of these ladies. I might even stop being so mad about the traffic then.
The FLASH is great if you happen to be sitting inside one. If you're trying to pass it during peak hours, things seem slightly different. Appealing to the mercy of Tempe drivers by trying to get in the left lane somehow brings out the worst in them. I have seen people drive faster just to prevent me from getting into the left lane to pass a halted FLASH.
Of course, it would be unlike me if I let pedestrians off the hook. People seem to believe that the crossing lights are redundant. Somebody has also spread a vicious rumor that you can cross the street from pretty much anywhere. If the culprits are smaller than me, I decide to give them a dirty look only to get a look reeking of triumphant satisfaction.
Dude, where's my bike?
Nishant Bhajaria is a computer science graduate student. Reach him at nishant.bhajaria@asu.edu.
