JUNE CASAGRANDE -- Reporter’s Notebook

With the rainy season coming, it’s time to settle once and for all a

debate that resurfaces every year.

You see, when it comes to wet-weather driving, there’s a “them” and an

“us.” They are wrong. Solidly wrong. But we are right.

To avoid giving away my party affiliation too soon, I will now, while

sitting at my desk, flip a coin to decide whose position to lay out

first. . . .

Done. Heads. Here we go. Let the detached, objective journalism ensue.

The first school of thought on wet-weather driving (as chosen by the

dull penny on my desk) asserts that one should die, I mean drive, the

same in rain as in dry conditions. These philosopher kings, in all their

wisdom, can be easily spotted on the freeway. They’re the ones in the

Beemers, Mustangs and Explorers behind the cascading walls of water --

projectile puddle-pummeling by their well-treaded tires.

These guys know the road. Just ask ‘em. They’ll tell you. They’ve

lived in Southern California all their lives.

One identifying trait is that they frequently complain about how

transient Southern California is. Of course, the reason they’re free to

complain is because there are no transplants within earshot. In fact,

they don’t know a single one. But while hanging out with their extended

cliques of native Californians, they’re sure that it’s all those East

Coasters and Seattle-ites messing things up down here while

simultaneously bestowing on us big-city status that entitles us to claim

cosmopolitan wisdom.

As native Californians, they know the road. And they’re quick --

really quick -- to share their insights on rainy day driving. It’s those

cautious people, they’ll tell you, who are the problem. Those people who

slow down in the rain, who turn on their headlights, who exercise extra

care. The slow drivers get in their way, forcing more confident drivers

to hit the brakes every quarter-mile or so, interrupting their 90 mph

pace. That’s just plain hazardous.

They’ll loudly assert that most people simply aren’t qualified to

drive in the rain. Then they burst into comedic impressions of Mr.

Magoo-like drivers clutching high steering wheels and whining, “Ooh, I’m

so scared.”

These Magoos, the rainy road warriors’ mortal enemies, of course, have

a different perspective. An aging demographic, they tend to exhibit the

curmudgeonly mind-set of people who have added up a lot of years. They,

too, have identifying marks. For one thing, they wear seat belts. Another

flag, a dead giveaway in fact: Almost without exception, none has ever

invested in a dot-com.

And many of them have a shameful secret: They’re not lifetime

Californians. Many have lived in places outside the desert climate.

They’ve served time in places such as New York, Seattle -- even tropical

places such as Texas and Miami. What can they possibly know about the

commando skills required to survive the San Diego Freeway in the rain?

Worse, each and every one of these Magoos has, at some point, had to

learn firsthand the meaning of the word “hydroplane.” According to my

American Hurtage Dictionary, this is defined as “a deeply religious

experience in which a motorist steering a car north is nonetheless

speeding westward, forging a lifelong respect for the conditions created

by water on oily asphalt surfaces.”

These two parties have never debated in an open, public forum. Their

battles are fought in tiny, tactical strikes where one friend at a bar or

a co-worker in an office assaults others with carefully constructed

comments that form a clever trap.

“No one knows how to drive in the rain!” they exclaim. They know their

audience will agree that other motorists are the problem. But by the time

the listener has realized which “others” are being blamed, it’s too late.

Agreement has already been secured.

It’s time to put these sneaky tactics aside. In an open debate, with

the light of day shed upon the issue, it will finally become clear who’s

right.

But perhaps I should wait until then to disclose my opinion. After

all, I am a journalist. I’m supposed to be objective. And as someone who

grew up in Florida, who remembers driving in near-hurricane conditions

with downpours so torrential the taillights of a car five feet ahead are

invisible, you probably wouldn’t want to hear my opinion anyway.

-- June Casagrande covers Newport Beach. She may be reached at (949)

574-4232 or by e-mail at o7 june.casagrande@latimes.comf7 .