A string of recent visitors to my work from the Northwest all noted that while Memphis doesn't have "traffic" in the same sense that, say, San Francisco or Seattle does, the drivers are all idiots.
Having heard this before, especially from those who have moved here from other places, and having lived in Memphis my whole life, I can't help but get riled every time I hear this.
Not all Memphians are crappy drivers. In fact, most of us aren't. Like any perpetual stereotype, there are a handful that give the rest of us a bad name.
In the last 10 years, I've spent thousands of hours sitting in traffic and several dozen more talking with daily commuters, both Memphis-bred and transplants, all of whom helped me comprise the following list of the worst drivers in a city ranked third Most Likely Place to Die in a Car Wreck by Men's Health magazine in 2003. Use these signs to help you steer clear and stay safe. Please note that I have not included those perennial targets such as the very old or the very young.
Fish - These holy terrors come in two forms: 1. those who viewing man's law as a reflection of God's law shall transgress neither and 2. those who view man's law as a reflection of the polluted secular world, and therefore can ignore those laws.
Arkansas or Mississippi license plates - This group is really a pack of local tourists, veering through three lanes of traffic rather than miss the I-240 loop. They don't live here, but they work and play here, and seem in a state of perpetual confusion - and hurry - to get home. The hasty driving that quickens those country miles just doesn't work on the narrow lanes of Poplar Avenue.
NO FEAR stickers and/or Calvin urinating on anything - This pack has more attitude than brains. They openly yearn to be extras (maybe even stars) in The Fast and Furious 3: Wreckless Pursuit. They will drag race themselves for a better time up Winchester or around the Nonconnah loop.
White, middle-aged SUV or luxury truck owners - Whoa to those who would risk meeting these in the Wolfchase area. That forty-something middle manager struggling with his huge mortgage, credit card debt, H2 insurance (not to mention gas prices) and his teenage kids is one traffic faux-pas away from ripping your head off. And driving at the mere speed limit is sure to find you trampled under the wheels of mom's Lincoln Navigator as she hurries from work to pick up the kids from school to Bobby's baseball practice and Susie's soccer practice. Handicap decals, license plates, or hangtags - All I have to say is: having a physical disability does not mean you should drive as if you have a mental one as well.
FOP and IAFF stickers - Perhaps the worst drivers of the lot are those who keep us in line. Power corrupts, right? It also corrupts their families, who disregard stop signs, red lights, speed limits and most other rules of the road. This still holds true, though less so, true for the IFFA, cousins of police officers. If you get into a wreck, who do you think will get the ticket - you, the nameless citizen, or his or her buddy from the force?
