Shut up and drive

It was on the back of a Bronco pocked with Bondo and body work. Next to a silhouette of the twin towers were the words, “Sometimes War IS The Answer.”

I’ve been a fan of bumper stickers for a long time. I used to make note of the best ones. I was charmed by “Obviate Nuance,” “E=mc2. It’s A Law We Can Live With” and “If You Love Something, Set It Free. If It Doesn’t Come Back, Hunt It Down and Shoot It.” I also liked “Jesus Is Coming. Look Busy,” and “When Hell Freezes Over, I’ll Skateboard There Too.”

The messages on these audible automobiles didn’t always transmit fun. Some were blunt proclamations of political position -- “I’ll Give Up My Gun When They Pry It From My Cold, Dead Fingers” -- or unconvincing declarations of sexual expertise, such as “Carpenters Have Bigger Tools.”

They often came in themes. “Friends Don’t Let Friends Drive Drunk” yielded the vegan “Friends Don’t Let Friends Drink Milk,” the anti-Bush “Friends Don’t Let Friends Vote Republican” and the anti-TV “Friends Don’t Let Friends Watch Friends.” The free-spirited 1970s slogan “I’d Rather Be Sailing” grew to include every known hobby, plus such variations as “I’d Rather Be Evolving” and even “I’d Rather Be Driving.” The hopeful 1980s mantra “Visualize World Peace” was reborn as “Visualize Whorled Peas,” “Visualize Industrial Collapse” and “Visualize Using Your Turn Signal.”

Some confused me, like “You’re Ugly, And Your Mama Dresses You Funny.” Some pushed the bounds of acceptable humor: “I [heart symbol] New York” turned into “I [spade symbol] My Cat,” which turned into “I [beet, as in the vegetable] My Dog.”

And some were frankly upsetting. There was the misogynistic “You Saw My Blinker, Bitch.” There were legions of Calvins urinating on everything from automobile brands to football teams. Some even used the “F” word. As I drove a carpool full of elementary school kids, I wondered, “Is that even legal? Should it be?”

The first bumper stickers I remember as a child were commercial or geographic in nature -- pasted on by parking lot attendants at Winchester Mystery House or bought by boastful anglers in the tackle shop at Bass Lake. In 1973, I bought a spavined ’51 Chevy panel truck that bore a harbinger of things to come. “Eat Fish, Live Longer,” it proclaimed. “Eat Oysters, Love Longer.”

By the 1980s, bumper stickers, much as license plates, became personalized. One learned without asking that the driver had been to a marriage-encounter weekend, another had a grandchild, and still another braked for garage sales. Trekkies were identifiable by “Beam Me Up, Scotty.” Scientologists said, “Psychiatry Kills.” Rueful workers said, “I Owe, I Owe, It’s Off To Work I Go.” Who were these people? Who were they talking to? What were they trying to say? Was this an effective way to persuade people to read the Bible, or impeach a president? Was the back of your car -- facing drivers you couldn’t see, didn’t know and would never meet -- the best place to express your deepest political or spiritual convictions?

The message from the guy in the Bronco was pretty clear. But who was he? A red light offered me the opportunity to inspect the owner of “Sometimes War IS The Answer.” He was a burly, ruddy-faced man, over 60. My look said, “Who would put such a hostile message on his bumper?” His look answered, “Me! You got a problem with that?”

I do. Isn’t the road angry enough, and loud enough already? The roadside is hideous with billboards. The radio blares Leykis, Limbaugh and Stern. Do we need rolling soapboxes and bumper-sticker bullies too?

My cars have been silent since the ’51 Chevy. If I were to post a placard today, it would be, “Keep Your Opinions To Yourself.” If the roads weren’t so dangerous, I’d make the statement personally -- except to the guy whose pickup truck says, “Protected By Smith & Wesson,” or his cousin, whose bumper reads, “Keep Honking. I’m Reloading.”

To them, I’d say, “Hush Up And Drive.” That might not eliminate the worst of the road rage. I recently had an encounter with a driver who declined to stop at the four-way stop sign where I was impatiently waiting my turn. Cutting me off, he was juggling a cellphone and a cup of coffee and still had a hand free to give me the finger. He was ugly. His mother dresses him funny.