BUBBLE In cars we are insulated and autonomous. We move at will through the landscape of surface roads and freeways, the habitrails of tunnels and bridges, and the cattleshoots of toll plazas and freeway on-ramps. We revel in the comfort of our private microclimates replete with radios, tape decks, cup holders, cell phones, heaters, air conditioners, fuzzy seat covers and rear view mirror ornaments. The car begets the driver as flaneur; as long as you own one, you are free to roam in this automotive wonderland, observing your surroundings from a vantage point once removed. Of course, ownership of a vehicle becomes a symbolic "arrival" of sorts in car culture. Without wheels we are surely second class citizens in cities that privilege private over public transportation. As drivers or pedestrians, we all suffer the political, economic, social, medical and aesthetic hazards of architecture and urban planning that favors drivers. Drivers in car culture enjoy still more liberty in the equalizing effect of being wrapped in steel and glass. Gender, race, and class distinctions become secondary when masked by this industrial skin. Physical strength and social status are superfluous to the logic of the road. The relative power and grace of machine or driver are irrelevant when "right of way" usually prevails. The only measure that truly distinguishes drivers from one another is the safety rating of their vehicles. The diesel truck or sport utility vehicle are perhaps kings of the jungle yet, even so, the insurance risk makes pushing, shoving, and vengeful collision less likely choices for expressing dominance. Cutting off other drivers and exhibiting road rage, however, persist as popular means for unleashing aggression on the road. The car is a sort of prophylactic bubble; a controlled and protected environment for cruising the unpredictable social terrain of the freeway, city, and urban expanse. While the bubble is protective, it's also de-sensitizing and perhaps even suffocating. Members of the crowd of drivers, we are always-already once removed from this same crowd, separated by the layers of steel and glass between us. We hurl epithets at those who will cut us off, "steal" our parking spot, or drive in a dangerous or rude fashion. Our words never escape the confines of our auto-mobile, however, and indeed might never have been uttered if not for the presence of this substantial armor. The car insulates us from the pleasure, risk and responsibility of face-to-face, shoulder-to-shoulder interaction. The incongruity of our behavior in cars and our behavior in person is mirrored in the slippage that occurs between electronic and face-to-face communication. In the same way that we contemplate whether our written and oral personas are consistent, we might ask "Are our driver and pedestrian personas consistent?"