I Question Your Ability to Lead, Sir

Have you ever been part of a convoy, a train of cars going where only the lead car really knows the end point?

There’s an art to the convoy, a talent. The lead guy is the man (or possibly the woman) with the navigational wherewithal, the skills to maneuver the roads, to judge the lights, to settle into a reasonable speed to accommodate the line of cars behind him. Naturally, the longer the convoy, the better the chance that someone will be lost along the way.

Baraboo, WI, is a good place for this, by the way. One full tank of gas from Minneapolis, it is…

Statistically speaking, did you know that you are more apt to be attacked by a black bear as you are to reach your destination with your full complement of travelers?

Wait. Maybe that only works in Minnesota.

Of course all members of the convoy have a role to play. Those with lead feet (or lead footses, as they are sometimes known) are just as dangerous to the integrity of the line as those who can’t keep up or slam on their brakes at the sight of a yellow light.

Consistent speed is the key, people; this is my personal conviction.

So I said all that because of what I saw Friday night.

Friday night, I watched three rather large vehicles with Manitoba plates trail a car with Minnesota plates down 94, then onto Broadway and down to University. Broadway has lights every four blocks or so, and so I found myself behind them, over and over. Young and stupid, cutting in and out of traffic, the last two cars unfailingly running red lights to keep up.

It was clear that their lead guy was not up to the job.

Mr. Minnesota Plates? You are fired, sir.

Of course we’re not as reliant on the lead car as we once were. Cell phones, GPS units, lojack (that’s not a guaranteed spelling there, by the way), have given us the information necessary to get from one place to another.

Now if we could get our hands on the device that will allow us to work together.