Babies, all of you. Try 395 Northbound between Richmond Virginia and Washington DC during rush hour. I learned to drive there. Yow. 85MPH as the unofficial speed limit, cars all over the place, HOV enforcement nonexistent, turn signals apparently illegal.
It is sheerest hell.
Just curious – In Atlanta, is it the drivers’ attitudes or the crazy freeway system that makes for such harrowing experiences?
(Or perhaps some combination of the two?)
I love driving there. It’s a great workout for my middle finger.
Richmond driving is getting pretty hideous, too. It’s like manners are no longer necessary ANYWHERE.
Ava
Preach it, brother (sister? Sorry, no offense meant either way). Even though it’s not the most pleasant place to live, I thank God every week day that I live near Tech, and work there. In fact, location has been a major factor in every job I’ve had since I’ve been here: It has to be in the perimeter, and if I have to take the highway, it has to be in the opposite direction of prevailing traffic. I’ve been lucky, so far.
Oh, and I still wake up some nights, in a cold sweat, from memories of NBA Allstar weekend. 2 hours to go from Buford Highway, to Peidmont, to Peachtree…my only defense was, my wife was driving. I had no control.
I’ve seen them on the M25 around London, the M6 just about anywhere. And Rusholme in Manchester manages to be gridlocked at 2 in the morning.
How strange…my experiences have been quite the opposite.
I lived in GA most of my life, and have driven in Atlanta several times…as such, I am well aware that you do need to know where you are going on I-75. Make sure you have several exits warning before you need to be in the right hand lane.
I found their traffic wonderful compared to some of Seattle’s drivers (we are on the side of a steep steep hill…I’m driving a stick shift and your bumper is a centimeter from mine 
), and absolutely spectacular compared to the idiots occupying the streets in Houston.
How odd… I actually didn’t find driving in Atlanta all that bad, and I was in an itty-bitty Miata, doing about 5-10 mph over the speed limit!
Now, driving in Memphis… Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. See this Darwin Award for a snapshot of the drivers here. (Acutally, I can’t call most of them drivers. They point their car in what they hope is the generally right direction, and pray.)
But then again, considering that at least two of the DMVs in Memphis in order to get your DL you end up essentially driving around the block. Parking? Nope! Freeway merging? Nope! U-turn? Nope! Three-way (“Y”) turn? Nope! You just back out of the ‘inspection area’ (of which, someone else could have parked the car there for you), turn left in the parking lot… turn right, turn left (at a stoplight with a left–turn light), right, right, then putter along for a bit, then turn left back into the parking lot.
That’s it.
And there are people around here who can’t handle even that much. Help.
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Looks like the DFW High Five project. There are another couple of those junctions in the DFW area on 635. Dunno what’s so bad about it.
No, no, no! Merge signs are like yield signs. If you can read it, it applies to you. They put merge signs on the ON-RAMPS, not on the highway. That is because drivers ENTERING the highway are supposed to do the merging. More precisely THEY are responsible for either slowing down or speeding up in order to integrate into the current traffic pattern. It’s when the idiots on the highway slow down or speed up in order to accomodate the new arrival that the system breaks down. Hello? Did YOU see a merge sign? Then just maintain your current speed!!! Or, if there’s space and you want to be polite, move into the left lane to allow the mergees to integrate more easily. But don’t change your speed because the person MERGING onto the highway is trying to gauge whether to speed up or slow down based on what you are doing.
Of course, this also means that you should maintain a reasonable distance from the car in front of you. Not only could this save you from a wreck, but it gives mergers a place in which to safely integrate into traffic.
Words of wisdom. Well said.
Eh. I’d take Atlanta over Detroit any day.
Ahhhh, Good ol’ I-696 here in Detroit. I have an email forward that includes things like:
I’d say that’s pretty accurate. The average speed on 696 is about 80 or so (except for the few who stubbornly go 65, actually making it more dangerous, since they also love swerving in front of people going 85 when they want to pass one of the few people going .0000002 mph slower than they are) with about 1 car length of space between each car (and yes, I’m serious. Seriously). I cut my freeway-driving teeth on 696. I think I can handle anywhere now. 
[sub]Arrr, can’t wait till I get paid so I can buy my freaking membership here. I’m sick of being a guest and feeling like a leech! :([/sub]
And do it towing a backhoe on a 20 foot trailer. Nothing makes me happier than not doing that anymore.
I cut my teeth in Maryland. I learned how to drive on n95 (DC-Metro people know what I’m talking about). I go to college in Atlanta.
These Atlanta drivers are god-awful, plain and simple. I’ve never seen the like. Since I’m going to college here, I ride with people from all over. Every time I finish gettin a ride from someone who drives like they don’t have any sense, I look at their license plate. It always says Georgia. My friends from Cleveland say they’ve never seen driving like this. My friends from Detroit say these people drive like they’ve got a death wish. My friends from New York curse steadily from the moment they get behind the wheel until a couple minutes after they reach their destination.
Oh yeah, and God forbid you ever miss an exit. Don’t ever miss an exit. You’ll end up in Alabama if you’re lucky.
What PunditLisa said is spot on.
Another really annoying thing. I tend to do the slip over temorarily into the fast lane bizzo if I’m coming up to where an on ramp cuts in, and there are lots of cars on it. It makes life easier for everyone. I really hate the guy who has been happy to sit behind me for ten miles UNTIL he sees the on ramp, then he decides to overtake me s-l-o-w-l-y, leaving me in the slow lane.
Also, never drive in Canberra, Australia. World’s shortest on-ramps. You are expected to go from zero to highway speed in about four car lengths. Scary stuff.
I can’t say what it is about Atlanta that makes the drivers into morons, but I’d say California has worse junctions. Observe:
Various Bay Area junctions
More California junctions, with the Atlanta Spaghetti Junction randomly thrown in for some reason. The LA junctions are especially horrendous, and there are lots more than the ones shown. There are several dozen major freeways in the area, and a ridiculous number of smaller ones.
The Macarthur Maze. If you look closely, you’ll see an Ikea store on the left. The 580/24/980 junction is only a couple miles east of this one.
As for short onramps, we’ve got a few of those here too. There’s one from Treasure Island onto the Bay Bridge eastbound where you have to go from a dead stop (there’s actually a stop sign) to full speed in about 4 car lengths. There’s a certain onramp onto 101 North in San Francisco where you spiral upwards from the street to the freeway and merge into the left lane, which you can’t see well because of the spiral. One of the entrances into the 580/24/980 junction has 3 lines of traffic merging into 3 lanes and branching off 2 ways in a very short space, maybe 10 car lengths, so everyone is trying to cross over at varying speeds.
I think the worst on ramp I’ve seen was on SOuthern State Pkwy on Long Island. It was an on ramp AND an off ramp on the up slop of a hill, and it was maybe 3 car lengths. And the on ramp also spiraled so you had to go slow.
And even compared to that, Atlanta is horrrible.
I drive on 400 quite a bit, and I do not think this is true anymore. It is 65 except for south of the new Marta station and north of Old Milton.
Of course if you go 65, even in the slow lane, you’ll get run off the road for your lack of speed, but that’s another story.
Tommy-Between the Northridge exit and the North Springs MARTA station. It’s 55 going towards downtown and 65 coming back, or I thought it was last time I looked.
Could be worse.
There are any number of smallish towns near San Antonio, up and down the IH-35 corridor.
In San Antonio, people merge with authority. They match speed, rip up that on-ramp, veer into the feeder lane, and insert themselves into traffic with the assured confidence of Errol Flynn doing the same thing with an underage groupie.
But in those small towns nearby… some people don’t do that. I routinely use that same interstate, and during the winter in particular, time and time again, I will gun the engine, speed up as I approach the ramp on the feeder road, put the pedal to the metal as I ascend the ramp… and slam the &%$#@ brakes on because some jackass has stopped at the top of the ramp, waiting for traffic to let him on.
Waiting for a break in interstate traffic.
It does not matter in the least to him that he has a hundred feet of feeder lane in which to get up to speed and into a freeway lane. Nuh-uh. None of this daredevil business for HIM, thank you very much, he’ll just wait for a break in traffic. Perhaps some good samaritan will actually stop, and let him on.
I screech to a stop, three inches shy of his back bumper. He doesn’t notice me.
Someone else screeches to a stop, three inches shy of MY back bumper. He still doesn’t notice.
Someone else yet pulls up back at the end of the line. You’ll notice a line has now formed. One of the guys behind me lays on his horn. I hear him shouting incoherently out his window.
Ahead of me, The Cautious Driver glances back over his shoulder, and gives me a dirty look. I look dirty right back. He glances beyond me, realizing I’m not the one honking. So as to prove him wrong, I begin honking, too. So does the third guy, and the fourth one, who just pulled in. The ramp is entirely full, now, and a fifth guy has his back end hanging out on the feeder road, blocking one lane.
We all blast our horns at him. He looks outraged. How dare WE tell HIM how to get onto an interstate highway?
Finally, he obliges us by caaaarefully cruising out onto that feeder lane at about thirty miles an hour.
All five of us punch it like mad, and go ripping past him. Some small, ugly part of me hopes Number Five matches speeds with him and won’t let him into the regular lane until the feeder runs out, forcing him to stop again…
