For the formative years of my life, I grew up in the Midwest. Specifically, in/around a town called “Little York.” You’ve never heard of it? I find that hard to believe, what with the population (at the time) of 350 people.

We had four seasons in the Midwest. Four. Real. Seasons. My favorite was Spring, followed by Fall, Summer, and Winter. Yes, Winter was my least favorite season. Not only did I dislike having to wear multiple layers of clothing, I didn’t like the fact that the only way to survive well was if I only left my eyes uncovered. And even then, sunglasses were obfuscating that “exposure.” With each season, of course, came the requisite weather: Spring–warm (not hot) comfortable climate, Summer–hot humid climate, Fall–cool climate with mixed types of precipitation, Winter–cold climate with snow and ice.

I was issued my driver’s license on my 16th birthday. I always felt bad for the kids whose birthdays landed on a day the DMV (or Secretary of State) office was closed…another day of waiting for “freedom.” Of course, as life progresses, we all quickly see our eagerness to get behind the wheel slip away. But I digress.

Since my birthday is in May, it gave me several months to hone my professional driving skills. Sure, there was the mud road that I thought our 1974 Mercury Montego station wagon could slay with ease…after a particularly hard rainstorm. I’m sure my dad appreciated that 1 AM call from the farmer who was equally happy to have a 16 year old kid banging on his door. In my defense, the car had a 460 engine; it should have been able to power through. And, it actually did a pretty admirable job. Just enough to get far enough down the road that getting out would require a strong chain and tractor.

As the season changed from Spring, to Summer, to Fall, and ultimately Winter, I found that my fun was just beginning. Oh, the fun of testing physics in snow drifts and on icy roads! And to prove I wasn’t some stupid kid with no smarts whatsoever, I put a good 25-pound tractor weight in the trunk of the car to give me that added traction. There was no holding me back! That Winter brought all kinds of joy. For the first time in 16 years, and the first time since my much younger siblings were born, I was FREE.

I’d honed my driving skills during the Summer, and quickly learned that any, ahem, car incidents were better left between the car and me, the car my friends and me, or the car, my friends, the farmer, and me. There was no need to disturb my dear dad. And that strategy worked well. I did actually learn to understand the physics of driving a car much better that Winter. Ice was not a friend of friction, for example; it was possible to press the brakes and experience the car’s inertia carry it forward (and sometimes sideways). All of these lessons made me a better driver. Not because I wanted to be a better driver. No, it was because I didn’t want to lose my freedom. Trash the car, and the parents would likely have the last say in the matter.

This brings me to Southern California drivers, and rain. Growing up in an area where there isn’t a lot of “seasonal driver training” (as there are really two seasons–warm, and not as warm) available has it’s challenges, apparently. At the first drop of rain, traffic speeds instantly drop by about 30%. It doesn’t matter that there isn’t enough moisture to wet the roads. It’s the principle of the matter. More rain than that? Well, that’s when the fun (and lunacy) begins!

You can imagine that millions of cars on the freeways in Southern California leave several things on the roads. Minuscule traces of tires, oil, grease, etc. So, as the first rain in a relatively long time wets the freeways, it is the Midwest equivalent of freezing rain. Yet, curiously, the bulk of the drivers continue to insist on keeping a Matchbox size car length in front of themselves, as they’re traversing the road at 70+ miles per hour. (The slowdown, you see, only lasts about as long as it takes people to understand what those clear dots on their windshield are, and how to find that thing that turns on those things that clear those dots from the windshield.)

I’ve lived in Southern California long enough to understand a few things are, for me, considered driving survival techniques:

1. Don’t even think of using a turn signal to try to merge from an on-ramp. The gap you’d hoped to occupy will suddenly be filled with the car that just accelerated to keep you from getting in front.
2. NEVER make a full stop at a red light when turning right, if someone is behind you. You’ll be rear-ended. The phrase “California Stop” is real, folks.
3. Aligning with #2, stop lights in Southern California are not tied to the literal word “stop.” No. What they mean is to slow enough that you don’t put your car up on two wheels as you round the corner. Oh, and yellow lights mean “accelerate quickly to get through the light.”
4. If you see a gravel-hauling truck on the freeway, and you’re in a relatively new car, take the next off-ramp. If the “popcorn” coming from the truck’s trailer doesn’t nail your beautiful paint job, the cars stirring up the “popcorn” from the truck’s trailer will find its way to your window. Oh, and it ALWAYS will impact and crack an area that leaves you no choice but to replace the windshield.
5. Accept that you are driving with millions of other vehicles. Road rage is real. That lady behind you is not waving at you, and she really does have more than one finger.
6. Don’t go under 75 in the “fast lane.” (The inner-most “public” lane, and the carpool lane.) See #5 for the reason.
7. Know your competition. If you want to change lanes, and there is one or two car lengths in that lane, size up the car that will likely accelerate to keep you from changing lanes. If it is an old car with lots of damage, stay in your lane. If it is a newer car, and it looks like it’s driven by someone who really doesn’t want to deal with an insurance claim, go for it. If you’re not sure, close your eyes and go for it. What’s the worst that could happen? Oh, this works for #1, too.
8. If you see a California Highway Patrol car, and you notice that it’s starting to veer between two lanes, cuss. That car will soon be stopping all lanes–for reasons unknown to anyone but the CHP officer in that car. These “traffic breaks” can last anywhere from three minutes to a half hour. Cry. Your stranded on a freeway, with no escape. On the other hand, you could get out and converse with your neighbor.
9. Assume that you’re a seal in a pool of sharks. Paranoia is a good thing. Assume that every car on the road is out to hunt you down and maim you in some way. Oh, and along with this, assume that nobody has insurance, and nobody has a driver’s license. You’ll probably be right.
10. Buy a “dash cam.” If you are in some level of an altercation, you want proof that it isn’t your fault. Even the most obvious accidents produce people who will always say it’s your fault. Always. In one of the three rear-enders I had, the driver claimed I put my car into reverse and slammed in to him. Never mind that he pushed me into the car in front of me–and that I was stopped at the time. Oh, and yes, he wasn’t insured, and he didn’t have a license. Just sayin’.

Back to rain. What really amuses me about rain in Southern California (well, when we get it–we are in year 5 of a drought), is the level to which “storms” are taken. I remember blizzards that were less eventful than a multi-day rain shower in Southern California. It’s actually a phenomenon. “Storm Watch 20XX!” Seriously, that’s what comes on the television when it starts to rain. I can think of, maybe, three storms in the 30 years I’ve been here that would warrant such attention. For context, one of those three storms destroyed one of my favorite piers, and the adjacent hotel. We’re not talking hurricanes or tropical storms here, we’re talking rain showers that MAYBE result in 1-2 inches of rain. Nonetheless, L.A. is about sensationalizing everything.

The best advice that one can heed when driving an automobile in Southern California is to burn up your sick/vacation/mental breakdown time when it does rain during a workweek. Each day it rains, stay at home. It’s really no different than the Midwest blizzard–well, except it is.