How is driving even a thing? We take it for granted, but it's actually pretty fantastical when you really think about it. I mean, you're sitting on a cushion bolted to a hunk of metal rubber wheels with a magic device known as an "engine" that uses a concoction made of black goo from the ground to propel us to speeds unknown to the natural world, all to grab that six-pack of beer and bring it back home before the game starts.

Then there's the weird, social aspect to driving that might be hard to comprehend if you haven't driven before. Despite the isolation that goes with being in a box, sealed away from the rest of the world, all of the micro interactions add up to what can feel like an ongoing conversation between you and everyone else driving near you. In a way, you can get to know total strangers just by their driving style. For example, If I'm driving behind someone for awhile it's like I can predict if they'll risk the chance of running a red light to avoid a stop, or if they'll roll to a stop before the light turns red.

George Carlin said "have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?" and in fact, I have often noticed that. I like driving— it's those pesky other drivers that's the problem. I get along with pretty much everyone I meet, but the second we share the road together you become my mortal enemy. That's dramatic, but you get the idea. Here are the types of bad drivers in Montana:

Swerve: The Types of Bad Drivers in Montana

 I like driving— it's those pesky other drivers that's the problem

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