Just outside of Charlottesville, Virginia, heading north on Route 29 there is a notorious stretch of road. There are two lanes of traffic, lots of volume coming out of Charlottesville, a series of badly-timed traffic lights, and rolling hills that limit forward visibility. Often, as I pass through that area, a leisurely 30-45 miles-per-hour drive turns to a sudden stop and a few heart-wrenching seconds where you wonder if the drivers of the cars behind you have been as alert as you have been.
Today, as Melissa and I passed through the area on this dangerous stretch of road, it was a fairly standard string of events. We were driving at about 35 or 40 miles-per-hour in a long mass of cars, minding our own business, when one of the badly timed lights turned red somewhere up ahead and everybody in front of us came to a sudden, unexpected stop. I, of course, applied the brakes on my Mazda Tribute SUV [strongly] and came to a stop at an appropriate distance behind the car ahead of me. Immediately, I looked in the rear-view to make sure people behind us were stopping as well.
