Relationships And Rubber-necking

     Gay and I drove down to the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles over the Memorial Day holiday to see the musical group Flight of the Conchords, and we loved their quirky performance enormously. But this blog is not about how great the concert was. It’s about getting there and what sometimes keeps humans from getting there. It’s also about the unintended consequences of simple actions.

     We were motoring down the 101 at a respectable speed, carefully having chosen a day and time, Sunday—mid-afternoon, when most people had already arrived at their holiday destination. Sunny, warm day, great conversation, ahh…life is good. Suddenly red tail lights in front of us start to glow and traffic slows, then almost stops. We play start-stop for about fifteen minutes in that familiar Southern California traffic pattern that absorbs a lot of chat time at parties. We’re speculating what could have happened, as traffic the other direction is zooming along. “I wonder if there’s been an accident?” I mutter.

     There had been an accident, but on the OTHER side of the freeway, WAY down the road from the initial slow-down. A fairly crumpled up car is sitting in the median surrounded by police cars and other assistance vehicles.  As soon as cars pass that point, they accelerate back up to highway speeds, and the traffic jam ends. I am astounded. “You mean this jam was caused by rubber-necking?!” I exclaim: "Sheesh!"

    I pondered this phenomenon for several minutes. An accident occurs. Perhaps the first passers-by slow or stop to help and/or call 911. Other people slow down to make sure help is coming, and the accident debris itself may block the road. But that’s on the street where the accident occurs.  Slow downs on other streets are motivated by something else. I wonder if there is a phrase for “Oh, how terrible, thank God not me?!” Something deep and primal seems to be the source of the horrible fascination, the slowing to assess, and speeding on with momentarily renewed immortality.

     I am pausing this blog for a metaphor alert. In our relationships, how often do we unconsciously get sidetracked by the awful, the anticipated awful or the predicted awful, rather than traveling along the road of our chosen goals and commitments? In most close relationships, the “accident” comes as a complaint, a blame statement, a loud sigh or eye roll. In our own personal rubber-necking, we go off-track from the things we can actually choose and control, fascinated by the “ain’t it awful” adrenaline hit of the moment--especially if the accident has happened to someone else. I guess tabloid relationship tales are really handy compilations of accidents that readers can exclaim over while ignoring their own opportunities to learn.

     What’s the antidote for rubber-necking on the road or in your relationships? You have your own inner GPS you know—it’s called re-committing. You drift, then you re-commit. Along the journey the slow downs become more infrequent, and the road gets smoother, more interesting, more creative. It might even come with great music.