I’m starting to feel sorry for rats.
I know, who could conjure up even an ounce of sympathy for a creature whose mere physical presence causes feelings of skittishness, repulsion and even panic, depending on where the rat is spotted? A fine-dining establishment for example.
My interaction with rats is limited to seeing them scurrying between rail tracks in subway stations, albeit only in New York and Chicago. Washington, Boston and Atlanta, give yourselves pats on the back, for I have never encountered the long-tailed rodents in your excellent (and clean) public transportation systems. I can’t speak for San Francisco. During a recent business trip, I opted to walk between destinations as opposed to riding underground trains in a city prone to earthquakes.
I am well aware of rats’ value in the medical community; their cardiovascular systems are similar to humans and, like us, they possess the uncanny ability to forage for delicious snacks in darkened kitchen pantries at 2 a.m. But some of these experiments are getting downright ridiculous and, I fear, are misleading the entire rat population.
I made this conclusion after researchers at the University of Richmond found rats can learn to drive and, once mastered, actually enjoy it.
As part of a study on neurodegenerative disease and psychiatric illness, scientists designed a Rat Operated Vehicle, a motorized contraption consisting of a one-gallon plastic container mounted on four wheels. The vehicle looked slightly more comfortable than my first car, a 1978 Oldsmobile Omega. Once inside, the rat drivers were confronted with three copper bars, designed to go left, right or straight when pressed.
They mastered the skills in far less time than it takes me to parallel park in Chicago. For their efforts, the rats received Froot Loops cereal.
Oh, it gets better. After a few spins around the lab, researchers studied the rats’ fecal matter, a job I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. They discovered “enhanced markers of emotional resilience.” Translation? The rats found driving RELAXING.
And that’s precisely why I feel more research is needed. Let’s take away the Froot Loops for a moment and have the rat drive a carpool of child rats. Place the small rats in different locations around the lab, along with tiny musical instruments, rat soccer shoes and rat dance outfits.
Make the rat driver figure out how to idle the vehicle when one of the child rats cannot be located. Also, set a timer; all the little rat passengers must be collected and dropped off within 30 minutes. Otherwise, no Froot Loops.
Still feeling relaxed, rat driver? Let’s try that experiment again. But this time, researchers are going to add about 50 other ROVs to the lab, being driven by rats of all shapes, sizes and moods. All of those rats have been trained to completely ignore the rules of the road, accelerating, braking and cutting off other vehicles at their will.
Throw in a few construction barricades and detours, forcing the carpool driver to take alternate routes, while still trying to meet that 30-minute deadline. Will the rat still be emotionally resilient? Or will it succumb to RRR (Rat Road Rage)?
One more test: Force the rat to become a rideshare driver, picking up inebriated rats from late night locations and attempting to locate destinations in unfamiliar neighborhoods while the passenger rat throws up in the back of the plastic container. Repeat this process for four to six hours.
If, after all these tasks, the rat is not begging to sell its ROV at auction, then yes, I will concur there are relaxing qualities to getting behind a vehicle and heading out onto the open road. But, as someone who has been a human driver in all of these scenarios, with the exception of ridesharing, I’m still convinced that driving does not, in any way, lower my emotional state.
I don’t give a rat’s ass if scientists think otherwise
