There is an epidemic sweeping the state of Iowa. I know because I have witnessed it first hand.

This disease can only be described as the complete loss of a person’s remaining brain cells after getting into the driver’s seat of a car.

Lately, I haven’t been able to drive to the gas station down the street without coming across someone who makes me wonder if they actually took the driver’s test and passed it or if they just looked through the DMV window and watched someone take and pass the test.

Take exhibit A, for example. Just this last Friday night, I was leaving the hospital after a visit to one of my high school friends who had just had a baby. I was, obviously, in a relatively good mood as I came to a stop light.

When the light turned green, the car in front of me swerved into the far right lane.

Without any warning, the driver suddenly did a U-turn right across the lane I was in. I came within inches of running right into the driver’s side door.

I was no longer in such a good mood as I honked at them and gave them a friendly “driver’s ed” wave. This would be what my high school driver’s ed teacher called a wave with one specific finger instead of all five.

Now, this car appeared to be driven and occupied by several teenagers, which could be a possible reason for their complete lack of knowing how to operate a large moving object.

On the other hand, I could have been wrong, and they could have been older, “more experienced” drivers who were just hopped up on a lot of crack.

This disease doesn’t contain itself to just driving either. It can spread to all aspects of operating a motor vehicle, including parking.

Now let’s look at exhibit B, the commuter lot. Anyone who parks there knows what I am trying to say.

Apparently some people at this university are not familiar with the concept of line, specifically, parking in between straight ones.

I’m sure most of you have heard the story about how the person who designed central campus decided where to put the trees. According to the story, some guy threw acorns in the air and where ever they landed, a tree was planted.

I am pretty sure this is the same method most of the people in the commuter lot use to determine where they will park their car.

I thought for sure that one of the requirements of coming to a school the size of Iowa State would be knowing how to and being able to execute the maneuver of parking in rows. Apparently I was way off track.

Now people, I understand that we are in Iowa, and there are mornings that you wake up to several inches of snow on the ground. This makes it difficult to know where the lines are and therefore difficult to park in between them.

But what is the excuse when it is 70 degrees, sunny, and the lines are right there on the ground, staring right back at you?

The cars in the commuter lot are usually not even close to rows, and half the time a car cannot even drive down a row because the cars are so close together that the rows are about four feet wide.

If you have this big of a problem managing to park even halfway in the actual parking spot to form something that resembles actual rows, just take the extra few seconds to try it again.

This disease can even spread to people who are not actually driving the cars but are just simply around moving cars.

Exhibit C. Let’s go back to the same night as exhibit A. This was a very stressful driving night. Before the whole U-turn incident, there was one with a pedestrian.

Right after I left the hospital, I was driving through downtown Des Moines.

It was about 9:00 p.m. It was dark. It was not necessarily the best time or place for someone to be jogging in dark clothes. However, I don’t think anyone told this to the man who ran out in front of my truck.

As a was waiting for an open spot in the traffic, this man ran right in front of my truck before I was completely stopped. I guess this would be my fault for not expecting a jogger in the middle of downtown Des Moines on a Friday night. Silly me.

So, after avoiding killing the jogger, he looked back at me and started pointing and yelling and swearing at me. I laughed with my friend, honked at him and gave another friendly “driver’s ed” wave.

He didn’t care for that much, and as I started to turn and drive away, he started to chase my truck. Now, I am not really sure what he would have done if he had actually caught my truck, but I am sure it would have been pretty funny.

I am not really sure how this epidemic started, but I hope someone finds a cure fast. I am not sure how many crazed, nighttime joggers I can out run in my truck.

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Jenny Joanning is a junior in journalism and mass communications from Norwalk.