DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

During my aviation days I had a dear friend at Pan American who used to read the Official Airline Guide like the rest of us read The Wall Street Journal, Rolling Stone or even Mad. To give a brief explanation, the OAG listed every flight in North America (there was also an international edition) by destination, airline and flight number, times of departure and arrival, aircraft type and number of stops if it were not a nonstop.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour     

Maybe it’s just the positioning of the moon that affects the tides but it seems lately there’s an abnormal amount of hit and run incidents. Outside of driving while intoxicated I think there’s no greater travesty on our roads.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour   

The other day I was driving down one of our major streets and got behind this older car. After a couple of blocks I started giving it a closer look and the first thought that went through my mind was, “Is anybody driving this thing?” I could not see anyone inside the vehicle. I even weaved back and forth to get different angles of approach and STILL couldn’t see anything.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

When one lives in places like Michigan, Indiana or Illinois there’s always a high number of accidents involving vehicles running into deer, and vice versa. There’s nothing like plowing into a 400-pound animal at 60 miles per hour on a totally dark highway to eradicate any need for caffeine to keep you awake.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour 

Through the years I have addressed the subject of what determines the speed limit not only on local roads but on freeways. I’m not only old enough to remember what dinosaur poo smells like but also I vividly remember the hysteria surrounding the Arab oil boycott in the early-‘70s when the Federal Government decided in the interest of fuel conservation the national speed limit would be no greater than 55 mph.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

Maybe it’s because I grew up in Indiana that it takes so little to amuse me, I don’t know. Ever since I was a small child I can remember the encouragement I received from my family when they would individually and collectively inform me that I was not your average idiot.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

During the early days of my career I started traveling a lot to the West Coast, primarily to California. Besides the consistently warm weather and the excitement of being part of the state’s fantastically beautiful environment there were always two things I would look forward to: one was the spotting of so many vanity license plates that seemed to be unique to the Golden State. The other was right turns on red. What a concept!

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour   

Much has been made about the dissolvent of the family unit. Some blame it on video games while others may blame the high divorce rate and increasing number of one-parent households. I have given a lot of thought to this phenomenon, proving once again that my ex-wife was totally wrong when she accused me of being shallow. I think I have a credible answer — families don’t take rides together.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

When I was a little Hoosier attending grade school at Flint Lake (in Valparaiso, Ind.) I was always fascinated by books that described what then sounded like distant lands (primarily because they were). I always recall one book titled Faraway Places.

DRIVER'S SIDE DIATRIBE
By Al Vinikour  

I’ve written several pieces on the technological evolution of the lowly steering wheel, mainly how it has become a repository for redundant audio controls and other functions that allow the driver to keep his or her eyes on the road but still be able to change stations, adjust temperatures in some cases or whathaveyou.