It’s sad, really.

Take a perfectly normal, happy, healthy, stable person, put him or her behind the wheel of a car and he or she turns into a twit.

It’s safe to say that everyone knows someone who does this — a best friend, parent or sibling.

Maybe even you yourself turn into a psychotic, frothing-at-the-mouth, evil-twin-of Dale Earnhardt after you climb in behind the wheel.

You feel the need to drive like hell everywhere you go and wherever you are. Parking lots become impromptu demolition derbies. Residential streets become NHRA drag strips. Main streets become interstates. And interstates become the Bonneville Salt Flats as you shoot for the land speed record.

But that’s not all; the spacing between your vehicle and those around you can be measured in microns. NASCAR racers don’t get that close to one another.

I’ve had many such experiences with drivers doing just this sort of thing in the past few weeks. A few choice examples:

* I’m shifting from the right lane to the left on Lincoln Way, in anticipation of a left turn into Hollywood Video. I hit my turn signal, start to drift and check the rear-view… only to see a small pickup about to implant its radiator in my trunk.

He was in such a rush to pass me that he ignored my signal and went for the pass anyway. After finally noticing that I was turning — and that I was a millimeter from his front bumper — he made a hard right and ripped past.

* I’m moving west Lincoln Way (again), in the right lane and about to turn right on Duff. A car in the left lane cuts across my front, close enough for me to make out how many fillings the backseat passengers have in their teeth.

* I’m exiting a CyRide bus in front of Wilson Hall on Hayward. I walk around to the rear of the bus, check around the side, and a black sedan doing at least 40 mph flies by. I made a rather rude gesture at the driver, who refused to stop.

“Yeah, that’s how I drive,” you say. “I don’t take crap from nobody on the road. I drive fast so as to get from place to place real quick. I don’t like to waste no time, and sometime you got to cut in front of slow drivers to make that left turn into the Swift Mart.”

I’ve heard excuses for idiotic driving which were a bit more literate than the one above, but they all had the same message – “I drive fast and aggressively to make time and because that’s the right way to drive.”

Well, Forrest, “Stupid is as stupid does.” And the people in the incidents above and everyone who drives like them are indeed stupid by virtue of their actions.

Think of it this way – most cars weigh 3,000 to 4,000 pounds.

That’s about two tons of steel hurtling down the road, more than enough to do major damage to anything it may hit due to marginal driving skill or outright foolishness.

But these cretins decide that it’s a better idea to be the motoring equivalent of Hannibal Lecter rather than show a bit of good sense and drive responsibly.

It can’t be raw aggression on the road that causes this. This is an aggressive culture, but there must be other reasons.

Maybe it’s isolation. They’re in the car, cut off from direct contact with others, in a protective steel cocoon. They feel as if they can do anything and get away with it; consequences never cross their minds.

Maybe it’s poor planning. Are these Speed Racer wannabes the same people who always arrive at theaters 15 minutes after the movie starts? A likely linkage indeed.

Perhaps it’s a need to show just how bad they are. They drive fast and aggressively to prove to the world that they are the baddest around, not someone to be messed with. Sounds like someone may have a few issues.

The current state of motoring in America: Providing more proof that common sense and responsibility have taken a leave of absence from most people’s lives.

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Kevin Kirby is a senior in journalism mass communication from Louisville. He has a B.A. in political science from the University of Wyoming.