Hands on the wheel, and the mask comes off

We are what we are. Always. Even when we believe no one is watching. Perhaps especially then.

To me, road traffic is an X-ray of us; individually and as a society in the context of road traffic. No other part of everyday life brings so many people together in such a tight space, under time pressure on top of that, with incomplete information, and with real consequences.

And no other part of everyday life shows in such an unfiltered way how someone treats others under these conditions. Strangers to whom you owe nothing and from whom you will never get anything back. What happens there is not so much chance. It is rather close to character. It shows you, me, and others. All without masks, apart from the holy sheet metal.

A few figures on this.

• In 1990, 30.7 million passenger cars were registered in West Germany, and just under four million in the GDR—so around 35 million together.
• In 2024, there are 49.1 million passenger cars in Germany, as part of a total stock of 60.7 million motor vehicles.
• An increase of more than forty percent in thirty years. The roads have stayed the same.
• More vehicles, largely the same area, more points of contact, more friction. More rolling and standing than driving.

What I experience

Passing on the right where it is not intended. Or steadfastly driving in the left lane while everything on the right is clear. These two interlock in a comical way. Merging in the last few yards. And yes, the zipper merge is intended too, but there are subtle differences in how it is carried out. Changing lanes or turning without signaling or checking over the shoulder. I am no pope of the rules, but driving in a predictable way benefits everyone, as I understand it.

The smartphone, a quick glance down, then back up. On the highway: the rest-area trick—out of the stationary line, through the service area, past thirty people waiting, into the gap. In the city: closing the gap that would have served someone else. Or quickly getting into the intersection, only to block it. Sure, others do it too, so I’m not the bad guy.

At the same time: letting someone in, which used to be a wave of the hand sometimes, comes less often. The pedestrian for whom someone clears the crosswalk—I still experience that, but I experience it less. That could be selective perception and imagination. It does not feel that way.

What I am explicitly not saying: traffic has become more aggressive. Inconsiderateness and aggression are not the same thing.

Three possibilities I recognize

The first: someone consciously decides to take an advantage. Compliance with the rules is weighed against personal gain—the result is clear. That is calculation.

The second: someone acts out of an affective impulse that pushes in ahead of thought. Time pressure, a traffic jam, the feeling of being passed over—and the gap has already been used before any decision has taken place. Afterward, everything might be different. In the moment, there was no leeway. Ask the people involved, and they would deny calculation—and would even be right. That is affect.

The third interests me most: someone is simply not really there. Not in a malicious sense, but in a plain sense. The cognitive capacity is not enough to fully grasp one’s own situation. What follows from it for others? Not on the radar. No intent, no impulse—only absence.

All three explanatory models produce the same picture from the outside. The difference lies inside. And then there is the car itself: The infotainment system with its menus, assistants, cameras, with beeping and flashing. The navigation that recalculates. The smartphone that is integrated. All of this creates a peculiar certainty of “The technology keeps me safe.” Nothing will happen. I can be away for a moment. I find that deceptive.
Under stress, people fall back on simpler processing patterns. I sometimes notice it in myself, and still I can hardly change it. It is neurology, one could say. What makes the situation more complicated: more traffic means more stress, and more stress means that insecure and impatient drivers meet more often. What arises from that sometimes looks like inconsiderateness from the outside. Sometimes that is what it is.

What I do not know.

Whether there has really been more of it, or whether I am just more receptive to it. Whether numbers would confirm my perception. Whether it is also regional, seasonal, cultural, situational—I do not know.

What I do know: driving a car is not a neutral event. It is a space in which decisions are made under pressure—small, fast, consequential. And in which it shows how someone deals with limited time, limited information, and limited patience.
Hands on the wheel is no great stage. But it does not lie either.

What would change if we understood every drive as a small decision about how we live together?