Driving like a video game

Suburban life in NOVA

In order to reach the large octagonal thrift store, which is close to the Lidl we have discovered, (cheap(er) food!), we had to make a left turn across a main road. American drivers in this part of Virginia are generally uninterested in one another’s need to change lanes and make turns. Many of them drive like they are in a video game, as if there are points for being closer to the next red light. People pop in and out of lanes—and in front of other cars—like characters in Mario Kart. One begins to imagine them spinning with stars if they get bumpered.

So, we waited for a couple of minutes, and were about to pull across through a gap, when someone came speeding along, way above the limit, leaving us waiting again. The rain was so heavy that when we did pull into the thrift store the gravel strip around the edge was under an inch of water.

Inside, the music was so loud I quickly got a headache. I am told it was Christian Rock. Among the shoppers, I saw an overweight boy pushing a trolley whose slow and steady diligence was due to the iPad propped up at the end. He watched Peppa Pig the whole time we were there. He looked at least eight years old.

It is now unthinkable to us not to visit a local thrift store. They are full of goodies. As well as most of our crockery, I have found an old Brooks Brothers rain coat with attachable wool lining. You know the sort of thing, with lapel straps, large buttons, and the belt that some characters tie in a knot. It’s what Manhattan Man used to wear in the movies.

Bargains are everywhere, and often in unexpected places, at least to British eyes, which are not trained to see such outlets in those outdoor malls that are ubiquitous here but reserved to the fringes in the UK.

Indeed, in this part of Virginia, there are no towns. Shirlington has a high street and Alexandria is a “proper” town, but mostly it is roads and car parks and clusters of shops. One must look differently to find the best places. The best Barnes and Noble is at Seven Corners, an otherwise inauspicious area, where the Home Depot faces a dreary prospect of wires and beige. I had splendid Chinese food at Chef Yan in Fairfax in a cluster of shops I would never have thought to look in for food.

This spaced out clustering makes suburban life far more convenient here. In ten minutes, I can drive to more than one library that is open until 8 p.m. (good luck with that in London), as well as multiple markets, bookshops, and so on. Movie theatres you drive to in England are often next to bowling alleys and TGI Friday restaurants. Here they are clustered with clothes shops.

Alas, then, that the drivers are, as I said, so alarming. At an intersection recently, I took a couple of seconds to move off when the lights went green. The driver behind me pipped his horn and then sped past, undercutting me as we turned into the main road.

Another driver recently was moving erratically around in the lane, so we overtook (he was, thankfully, going slowly). As we passed, we saw that he was not only holding a huge sandwich in his hand from which he occasionally took bites without looking up, like a teenage boy eating in front of a video game, but was looking down into his lap—no doubt at his phone.

It is perfectly normal for drivers to check their messages at an intersection, undertake at speed, go ten over the limit as standard, only keep one hand on the wheel (and barely that), let go of the wheel while gesticulating in conversation, weave through traffic, and other stunts of life and death, or, most alarmingly, to stop on the white diagonal lines at off ramps, unsure which lane to take. I have seen people approaching an intersection where the light is red and pull hard into a strip mall car park to cut the corner. They simply whizz through the car park and come out the other side, thereby avoiding the lights for their turn.

This meme is no joke.

The horn is a mere tool of impatience. Old ladies in the Harris Teeter car park lean on it with a smile if someone else takes too long to back out of a space. (Not me, I was merely the pedestrian spinning round in alarm.)

The practical driving test I took was so basic I nearly asked them if they weren’t sure they didn’t need to see more than me changing lanes. I assumed this was because I have a licence in the UK, but Reddit users report similar: “Just had to drive straight and make a few left and right turns and then had to park again at the DMV.”