Pilot Car

I first encountered a pilot car as I headed west through Indiana. I came over a hill to find a semi stopped in the middle of my lane. I couldn’t see around it and didn’t know if I was supposed to go around or be patient.

The pilot car, for those of you unfamiliar with the phenomenon is a car that works with the flaggers in a construction zone. The sign wired to its trunk or tailgate reads “Pilot Car. Follow Me.” It leads a string of cars through the site, delivers them to the other side, pulls off on to the shoulder, and when the road is clear, pulls a u-turn to pick up the, say, southbound traffic that has been steadily accumulating. The route could be one mile or ten.

For those of you wondering how else this could possibly operate, on the east coast, the flaggers are in either visual or radio contact and the distance between them is a matter of yards instead of miles. No pilot car necessary.

But back in Indiana, the semi had started to move. We crawled through the construction, and at the other end I saw the pilot car, but still was rather confused as to what was going on. The next one I encountered was in Idaho on my way up to the Tetons. Again I pulled out to pass the stopped car, but this time realized what was happening.

By the time I reached road construction coming out of Yosemite Valley, I knew what to do. I put the car in park, rolled down my windows, and turned off the engine. I turned in my seat to find the whole Yosemite Valley before me with half dome peering from the far end. I got out my post cards and wrote one and a half before traffic arrived from the other direction.

In Nevada on my way east two construction sites in a row kept me in cell range long enough to finish a luxuriously long conversation with my mother. Our call ended as the second pilot car arrived. My cell phone began searching for service as the car pulled off on the shoulder to let us pass.

Sometimes though, I did get impatient and grumped at the fifteen minutes of imposed stillness. But impatient or not, I had to wait. So I turned off my engine and wrote, studied the map or leaned my chair back two clicks and listened to my audio book.

Only when the car in front of me began to pull forward did I start my car, wave my thanks to the flagger, and ease through the construction and back to the open road.