Okay, Scott en Aztlan is always venting about idiots he sees on the
road.  I thought I'd take my turn, after a weekend of holiday driving
around CA.

Lesse, first there was The Idiot At The Gas Station.  While she was not
driving on the roads per se, she did pull up to the pump ahead of me to
get gas.  Now, there were two pumps, and of course, she pulled to the
back one, despite the big sign that said PLEASE PULL TO FORWARD PUMP.

I rolled down my window and asked her to pull forward, but she ignored
me.  Maybe she just couldn't hear...she didn't look all that old but she
did look frail.  Or maybe just lost.  At any rate, I didn't have the
energy to pursue it and I wasn't in a hurry at the time so I just sat
there and watched her pump.  (I couldn't drive around her to the foward
pump, by the way; there wasn't enough room.)

So she goes over to the payment machine and starts pushing buttons.
Then she walks back over and looks up at her pump, presumably to see
what number pump she's at.  Then she walks back to the machine.  Then, a
few seconds later, it's back to the pump and another look at the number.
 Then it's back to the machine.  Some more button pushing.  Some
puzzled staring.  Then it's back to the pump to check the number again.
 Then it's more button pushing.  Then it's a cancelled transaction and
her card ejected as she opts instead to go inside and pay the nice man
behind the counter.  Then it's back to the pump.  Then it's putting the
nozzle into the filler.  But she doesn't lock the trigger when she
squeezes it, so it's not pumping.  I decide to see how long it takes her
to realize this.  Very long, it turns out.  She's standing there.  For
at least five minutes.  Then she looks at the display on the pump and,
presumably, notices it hasn't moved.  So she looks down at her nozzle.
Then it's another trip into the station to talk to the man behind the
counter.  Then it's outside and a squeeze of the trigger.  We're pumping
now!

After she finished I checked the clock on my dash.  It took her 15
minutes to pump 10 gallons of gas.  Then she starts her car, and putzes
out of the station and onto the street at about three miles per hour.

Next there was The Idiot Who Stopped Dead On The Freeway To Read The
Signs.  That's what he did on I-80, where it splits off to either go to
the East Bay and Oakland or West to San Francisco and the Bay Bridge.
Someone needed to read the signs and STOPPED in the number two lane to
do so.  Amazingly, there were no collissions behind him, though a lot of
 smoke came from many sets of tires.

Then there was the Truck Driver Who Merged Onto The Freeway at 20 miles
per hour.  That's what he did, when we were coming back from Carmel
yesterday.  He was in front of me, signaled left, went right, got onto
Hwy 156 doing 20 miles per hour, changed into the left (passing) lane,
and continued at that speed.  No hazard lights even.

Oh, and let's not forget the other frail lady at the gas station in
Carmel who also had a problem squeezing and locking the pump.  At least
her I could go around.  But when it came time for her to pass me to
leave the station, she edged around my car so close she had to roll down
her window and watch as her left side missed my right side by inches as
she crept along, teeth gritted.  Yet this was a HUGE gas station, and
there was--not exaggerating--about twenty feet of space on her RIGHT side.

There were surely others, but those are the ones I remember now.  --Oh,
yeah, then there was the Volvo SUV who was tailgating me on twisted Hwy
1 heading from Cambria to Carmel, so I stopped at at turn out to let her
pass, and then continued on, only to come up on her bumper as she now
proceeded to go far slower than I ever was going once she was in front
of me.  Or the white-haired woman in the giant white Caddie who pulled
out directly in front of me at another turnoff only to proceed at a
snail's pace for the next 30 miles, when there was nobody behind me.

J