In August, we bring a set of new full-time writers to the blog. Today, please welcome Kate DeHaan (’22), who will be writing for us on the 22nd of each month. Kate started Calvin as an engineering major and graduated (2022) with a bachelor’s in writing. She is currently working as an executive assistant for Mercer University’s student affairs. She also writes her own blog (LosingKate.com), practices martial arts, and takes full advantage of her apartment’s pool.

So I wouldn’t total my car when I moved to Atlanta, my dad and I split the drive over two days into two six-hour trips. I still had to drive alone because I needed two cars to fit my collected art. I don’t remember much other than bumper to bumper traffic blurred out by four Bang Energy drinks.

Now that I’ve lived in the city for almost a year, I dream of driving Michigan roads again. Sure, people speed a little, but they are not defined by the mix of stupidity, unearned confidence, and a complete lack of self awareness like the Atlanta Driver.

I’m not saying everyone in Atlanta is always like that. I think the roads demand it. Atlanta has gone through a rapid expansion to which the city’s solution was seven extra highway lanes and seventy-one streets named Peachtree. However, people still pull some wacky shit. To survive, I have determined the guiding rules of the Atlanta Driver based on persistent, objective observation.

1. For the Atlanta Driver, a middle finger is a polite way to tell someone to do better.

I turned out of my apartment when I had the right of way, and an Atlanta Driver cut me off. Deciding that I had made the egregious error, they gently put their arm out the window, gracefully bent their elbow, and elegantly gave me the bird.

2. A horn is not used to alert someone of the Atlanta Driver’s presence but to express how utterly pissed off they are.

When my partner Duncan and I were driving, he made a semi-blind left turn. After we were safely in the lane, the Atlanta Driver who had to stop a whole ten feet sooner, laid on the horn for forty seconds.

3. The solid white line is merely a suggestion to the Atlanta Driver. This is more commonly known as the I-can-make-that-exit-even-though-I’m-two-lanes-over rule.

When patiently waiting in a backed up off ramp, I regularly get cut off and honked at (see above) when Atlanta Drivers are barging in from the triangular white lines separating the exit lane from the highway. The Atlanta Driver certainly lacks any capacity to say “Ope! There goes my exit.”

4. The shoulder functions as a passing lane for the Atlanta Driver when the cars in front of them are moving slower than desired.

On our way back from a Halloween party at 2 am, Duncan and I braved the late night roads. In the span of five minutes, at least seven Atlanta Drivers sped down the shoulder, inches from the bumper-to-bumper traffic. The Atlanta Drivers trying to cut in from both directions (see above) were so aggressive that Duncan thought we might get shot.

5. What are commonly known as hazard lights, are known to the Atlanta Driver as the park-anywhere lights.

When entering the highway, I am often forced to switch lanes because Atlanta Drivers are parked with their hazards flashing in the on-ramp. While this might seem like an emergency scenario, it was, in fact, because there was no parking next to a music venue for Ubers to pick up drunk patrons.

6. U-turns are always allowed.

I once saw a U-haul truck whip a u-ey during a red light from the right turn lane.

7. The two “Keep Moving” signs and a dedicated lane for highway exit traffic outside my specific apartment require that the Atlanta Driver block the exit ramp.

Late at night, an Atlanta Driver was stopped for at least five minutes on this very exit. There was no traffic to potentially hit them and a cacophony of horns urging them to move which gained the attention of several pedestrians. After considerable personal reflection, the Atlanta Driver slowly made the turn into the strip club five feet in front of them.

When I was young, I knew I wanted to move to a big city. I imagined life would be about riding the subway from work to my affordable brownstone. I knew public transportation in Atlanta was bad, so I thought a solution to living my city life could’ve been a moped. I know now that I would be dead if I even touched a moped.

My family would weep at my grave. Atlanta Drivers would rise up, lobby with Big Scooter, and fight against Atlanta City Planners in the wake of my death. Their slogan would’ve been “Make Atlanta roads safe for delusional white girls who want to scoot around on mustard yellow mopeds.”

Sadly, the Atlanta Driver will never know what my sacrifice could’ve done for the city. At least I still get to putz around in my Toyota Corolla, slowly turning into an Atlanta Driver.

Kate DeHaan

Kate DeHaan started Calvin as an engineering major and graduated (’22) with a bachelor’s in writing. She is currently working as an executive assistant for Mercer University’s student affairs. She also writes her own blog (LosingKate.com), practices martial arts, and takes full advantage of her apartment’s pool.