Driving Angst...

Well I made it to Denver... over 1300 miles and 24 hours later. Phew...

As I drove listening to a combination of audio book, music and the bible on CD (yeah, it's 70 CD's...) I was confronted by the ugly face of automotive humanity. Mind you, I've seen it all a million times before...

Ayric-Road-Enemy #1... the trucker. Seriously... I can't stand these guys (and probably a few gals). I suspect most are high on meth and drunk, because their driving skills could only be explained in such a way. Here's what truckers do that drive me insane. Take your average, level, perfectly straight, four lane highway. On any given mile there are two truckers. They hate me... it's certain.

They are traveling at the posted truck limit in the right lane... then they see me. The front truck will slow down to the pace of a wounded, three-toed sloth who's lost 2 out of 3 toes... on each paw. The rear truck will slow too... wait until the last nanometer to pull out right in front of me... and go 1/2 mile faster than the toe-less slothmobile. SO I have to sit there... looking at "Wash Me" and various profanity for about 500 miles. Unless there's a boob bar or casino... which they always promptly pull off at. OR...

I'll be traveling my law-minded 9.999999 miles over the limit, cruising along, enjoying the amazing scenery and a particularly good audio book or bible passage that speaks to me... and then I'll see a speck on the horizon in my rear-view mirror. Probably a car I think, and glance down at the gas (always mindful of my worst nightmare.... to run out of gas). Takes perhaps a half a second... when I look up and there is no horizon anymore but the word "MAC" with a vertical stripped background... and a large angry horn blaring behind me. This is when this "driver" tries to park his rig in the passenger's seat. After awhile, this possible missing-link of Teamster evolution passes by me with a brave, grimy, profane salute. I wave and smile back...

What really just confuses me however is the Left-Lane-Driving, What's-Cruise-Control?, Heather. Sorry ladies but after over 70,000 miles in two years... this person NEVER fails to be a woman. Usually with "Peter" (more on "Peters" and "Heathers"...with proper credit given to the coiners... in later posts) who can't possibly drive more than 50 miles without wrinkling his American Eagle shorts or messing up his frosted, spiked hair. So Heather is prattling on to poor Peter... oblivious that there are thousands of cars behind her and she's going somewhere between -2 and 100 miles an hour... in the left lane.
(disclaimer: I am not referring to ALL women, but only the small minority who drive this way)

Usually, however, I cruise along, alone, unharmed or taunted in anyway. Enjoying the most beautiful parts of our great country... until that speck appears behind me, and Heather in front... I pull over and sleep then.