GirlZoot turned me on to books on cd a couple of weeks ago. She told me it was like crack, very addictive. When I told her my commute was only around 20 minutes to the office, she waved her hand in dismissal. "Perfect," she exclaimed.
As recommended, I started with a book I knew: Oryx and Crake by Margaret Attwood. I was actually re-reading the book in the flesh so to speak. I filled up my cd player in my trunk with the disks and started to listen.
GirlZoot was right. Audio books act like crack on a bibliophile like me. I'm starting on my fourth book tomorrow. I've listened to two of my all time favorite classic books: The Great Gatsby and All Quiet on the Western Front. Since I've been doing historical novels (or period novels, whichever you prefer) I decided to choose another favorite, Catch-22. Plus, it's a great way to get in some reading during otherwise non-reading moments. Very cool.
I'm almost looking forward to my commute tomorrow.
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label driving. Show all posts
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Blizzard of Aught Six
Yesterday the snow started early and I drove into work in the beginning of the blizzard. After an hour or so at work, the powers that be closed the office and I started driving home.
Mostly it was slow going, deep snow and cautious drivers. About a quarter mile from Federal on eastbound 120th, everything slowed even further to a creeping crawl. Everyone wanted to keep going, once in motion stay in motion. I finally got to the intersection and drove through to the other side of Federal. I saw a police cruiser come down 120th westbound. I noted it and started to drive up the hill. When I checked my rearview I saw that the cruiser was behind me, having closed off 120th at Federal. After passing a semi and one stranded car, I noticed that there were about 6 to 10 other cars on the side of the road. Some of them were completely perpendicular to the road and one of them was the same make, model, and year as my car. I followed the pickup truck in front of me through the maze of cars and continued slowly home.
I got into the complex with little trouble or sliding. Around two corners and then to where my garage waited for my little car, I flipped open the garage and pulled into the untouched white expanse spread before me. I got about one car length in and my car high centered, 50 feet from home.
After forty-five minutes of shoveling a path for the car then digging out under the tires, I popped the car into neutral and rocked it back and forth. The car finally got over the snow and into the garage with only a few seconds of fear that I would hit the building instead of pulling into the garage. After I got inside, I closed the garage door and collapsed into my chair, tired, but proud of my accomplishment.
Today I peeked out and the snow had fallen and drifted over the path I shoveled. Good thing the office was already closed.
Here's to a white Christmas!
Friday, August 11, 2006
Road Trip
I took today off of work, and managed not to get dressed until after 5. After some reading (and falling asleep while reading), surfing the net, talking to Girlzoot, and petting the kitties, I decided I was hungry and it was time to get moving. While chatting with Girlzoot, she suggested taking a drive. This suggestion stuck with me, because after a relatively quick dinner at Red Lobster, I got on I-25 North and just kept driving.
As I drove, I had Bowling for Soup as company, and I thought how nice it was to just drive, not have somewhere to be at a certain time, just to drive. The lure of the open road is quite attractive and I enjoyed watching the sun go down as I drove with the window down and my hair blowing all around. The landscape was familiar. When I went to school at CSU, I drove the highway at least twice a month. Some of the landmarks / businesses had change, but most of the way felt the same. Now, rumble strips lined both sides of the road, and about 10 miles north of home, a little fence ran in the median to prevent people from crossing it to the other side. I suppose they're serious about the signs stating "Median Crossing Prohibited". Who knew?
As soon as I passed my own exit, I knew where I was heading, and today it felt right to be going back to my old stomping grounds in Fort Collins, home of the CSU Rams. Kerri and I spent a lot of time in the four years I attended CSU, both at the dorm and in the two places she lived in off campus. And since I've been thinking of her all day, a trip down memory lane seemed like a good idea.
I got into town before the sun completely set, and drove up Mulberry to Wheedbee. The last house Kerri lived in college was just off Wheedbee and Myrtle. This was the house we played Secret of Mana for hours instead of studying, painted the ceiling, celebrated my 21st birthday with a bowl full of fuzzy navels (I couldn't drink orange juice for months after), where I became Goddess of the Yard (for one night only), and where she had the best graduation party complete with an ice block for shooters and a gaggle of old friends and new faces. We scrubbed jello shots out of the carpet there, and smoked our first cigarettes on the front porch. As I drove past, thoughts and images came to me of the memories and times I spent in the little white house with green shutters. It looked exactly the same as it had 12 years ago when she drove off in her black 4Runner with the dogs in the back and her dad sitting next to her.
After I drove by, I swung back around to Mulberry and went to the 7-11 we used to frequent. The clear plastic lids for the Big Gulps (with or without a cape) are not new, but back in the day, we used to carve our initials in the translucent plastic lid so we could tell who's was who's when we got back to the little house on Myrtle. After grabbing some gum and a drink (putting my initial on the lid in honor of the memory) I swung through Old Town and headed for Walrus Ice Cream, the best ice cream ever. Back when I was in college, it was right on College (basically Main Street) but I think shortly before or after I graduated they moved a block west, just off Mountain. After circling the one way streets for about 10 minutes, I finally just laughed and pulled into the pay parking lot which did have a few spots. I could remember circling the Corbett parking lot every night looking for a spot, and the night of the Billy Squier concert, Kerri was driving and we couldn't find a spot in our lot or remotely near the dorm. Surprisingly the charge was only $0.50/hour, excessively reasonable. Walrus didn't have my favorite (Cinnamon) but I had a nice scoop of strawberry in a chocolate waffle cone which I ate in my car listening to P!nk. Quite tasty.
Next door to Walrus, the Rio Grande has a back porch area gated off under a big arch. Kerri used to love going there, the food was good, the margaritas were really good, so good that there was a 3 margarita limit. I also remembered the Spring Break of my senior year when Shaych and I went to the Rio for dinner. I ordered a margarita (what the heck! I thought) and the waitress asked if Shaych wanted one as well. He said he did but had left his id at home so he'd just have a virgin margarita if that was ok. Well, no, it wasn't, but how old was he anyway? By the end of the evening, he had imbibed his own margarita and mine to boot. Suffice it to say, there is a reason for a 3 margarita limit... But we had fun and talked about the most outrageous things that night.
I decided to take a spin around the Oval then head to my old dorm for a bit of nostalgia. When I got onto campus at the Oval, it had gotten pretty dark. Oddly enough, there were tents and awnings pitched with a bunch of empty animal crates (the big metal bar kind). Apparently some sort of bazzar had happened today, and people were either bedding down for the night or packing up to leave. Part of the Oval was blocked to traffic so I ended up driving on the east side of campus, past the building that was reputed to have stairs ending in nothing and doors that opened to the open air. Now, I'm not sure I believe that, but I remember the story from my days as Campus Mail Delivery.
I made my way back out to Laurel and west toward Corbett Hall, conjoined with Parmalee at the kitchens (where I used to work). I entered the parking lot and circled around, pleased at all the available parking. I slid my car into my favorite spot, right in front of my old room H107, the sweetest single on campus. I had my own entrance separate from the rest of my hall, a nicely sized room, and my own bathroom (the best part, I didn't have to share with any neighbors). I also didn't have any upstairs neighbors, I was under the lounge between A and H halls, so it was blessedly quiet. I got out of the car and wandered up to the door leading into the dorm. Instead of a big lock, a pass card controller rested next to the door, and a nifty call box (like those in some apartments where you have to be buzzed in) was right outside the door. When I was in school, it was before the big cell phone boom (I didn't have one til years later, and it was still 15oz and clunky as all get out) and if you wanted to get in, you had to have your key or know a friend was coming down to get you. Yanno, uphill in the snow both ways and all.
I stood beneath the window where I used to shout up to Shaych to play something, anything, and play it loud so I could hear it. I couldn't smoke in my room, so I would hang out outside and chat with him in his room or he would come down and join me, enjoying a brief respite from the many hours of study and paper writing. I smiled as I walked under the underpass and into the courtyard. Corbett is the biggest dorm on campus, and at the time (and I imagine to this day) is also the football dorm. It's shaped like a big D with two wings flaring off by the kitchen. In the center of the D is a huge courtyard with a sand volleyball court, concrete basketball full court, and a grassy area with several huge trees. By now, it is full dark, and school is not in session yet, so I'm a bit wary, but I wandered in and sat down for a bit and enjoyed the warm night, thinking about my old room and the many many times I crossed the courtyard to go eat or pick up mail or meet someone. I thought fondly of the first time I met Shaych at the mailboxes, his warm smile and friendly manner invited me into his circle of friends. We walked across the courtyard, mail in hand, and went up into his single suite, catty-corner to mine one floor up. He was building a montage on his wall and we talked about music and politics and Madonna among other things. Since that day, he has been one of my dearest friends.
I had one last stop to make, so I gathered myself and drove up North Drive and headed toward Elizabeth Street. Campus West looked as lively as ever, the Subway still a staple of the area, with a new Qdoba and McD's. The little mediterranean food place I loved was gone, and I saw something had taken over the downstairs spot where Marshak's was until the flood of 97 destroyed the merchandise. They reopened down in Old Town and I just learned they closed for good in October 2005. I played my first ever MtG Tournaments there and bought my first serious comic book series there.
When I got to Prospect, I turned west and headed down the dark road that had few streetlights (after the blazing bright lights on Shields, this was sort of a blessing). When I got close, I had to start looking at street signs. Azalea is a winding street that loops from Prospect up to Overland. I found the correct turn and drove past a very quiet neighborhood to the little townhouse that Kerri moved into just before finals our freshman year. We had recruited Jon, the pet store guy and all around fine fellow, to help move the 55 gallon fish tank Kerri had started in her dorm room (and purchased from Jon earlier that year). Kerri's new roommate had a female basenji and during the year she lived in the place on Azalea, she had a litter of four pups, one of each. Male and female red and white and male and female tri-color. Reeses, Caramello, Snickers and Junior Mint (could you tell they were on a diet when the naming happened?)
After my final drive by, I went back to College and drove down the main strip out of town. The local market had been bought out by King Soopers, and there was a Whole Foods right there as well. I waved to the mall where we spent many many nights buying music and visiting Jon. I noticed all the chain restaurants that popped up, Applebees, Olive Garden, Lone Star. As I made my way to the highway to head for home, I saw the moon hanging on the eastern horizon. It was huge and a golden yellow-orange and it followed me all the way back. Weird Al got me home again, and I thought of the time Kerri had bought walkie talkies so we could be connected as we caravaned home for winter break. I told you it was before cell phones...
All in all, I expected this trip to be more emotionally draining than it was. Mostly I smiled and didn't even think to shed a tear. To tell the truth, I really enjoyed my trip and I think it was a great idea. Thanks, Girlzoot.
As I drove, I had Bowling for Soup as company, and I thought how nice it was to just drive, not have somewhere to be at a certain time, just to drive. The lure of the open road is quite attractive and I enjoyed watching the sun go down as I drove with the window down and my hair blowing all around. The landscape was familiar. When I went to school at CSU, I drove the highway at least twice a month. Some of the landmarks / businesses had change, but most of the way felt the same. Now, rumble strips lined both sides of the road, and about 10 miles north of home, a little fence ran in the median to prevent people from crossing it to the other side. I suppose they're serious about the signs stating "Median Crossing Prohibited". Who knew?
As soon as I passed my own exit, I knew where I was heading, and today it felt right to be going back to my old stomping grounds in Fort Collins, home of the CSU Rams. Kerri and I spent a lot of time in the four years I attended CSU, both at the dorm and in the two places she lived in off campus. And since I've been thinking of her all day, a trip down memory lane seemed like a good idea.
I got into town before the sun completely set, and drove up Mulberry to Wheedbee. The last house Kerri lived in college was just off Wheedbee and Myrtle. This was the house we played Secret of Mana for hours instead of studying, painted the ceiling, celebrated my 21st birthday with a bowl full of fuzzy navels (I couldn't drink orange juice for months after), where I became Goddess of the Yard (for one night only), and where she had the best graduation party complete with an ice block for shooters and a gaggle of old friends and new faces. We scrubbed jello shots out of the carpet there, and smoked our first cigarettes on the front porch. As I drove past, thoughts and images came to me of the memories and times I spent in the little white house with green shutters. It looked exactly the same as it had 12 years ago when she drove off in her black 4Runner with the dogs in the back and her dad sitting next to her.
After I drove by, I swung back around to Mulberry and went to the 7-11 we used to frequent. The clear plastic lids for the Big Gulps (with or without a cape) are not new, but back in the day, we used to carve our initials in the translucent plastic lid so we could tell who's was who's when we got back to the little house on Myrtle. After grabbing some gum and a drink (putting my initial on the lid in honor of the memory) I swung through Old Town and headed for Walrus Ice Cream, the best ice cream ever. Back when I was in college, it was right on College (basically Main Street) but I think shortly before or after I graduated they moved a block west, just off Mountain. After circling the one way streets for about 10 minutes, I finally just laughed and pulled into the pay parking lot which did have a few spots. I could remember circling the Corbett parking lot every night looking for a spot, and the night of the Billy Squier concert, Kerri was driving and we couldn't find a spot in our lot or remotely near the dorm. Surprisingly the charge was only $0.50/hour, excessively reasonable. Walrus didn't have my favorite (Cinnamon) but I had a nice scoop of strawberry in a chocolate waffle cone which I ate in my car listening to P!nk. Quite tasty.
Next door to Walrus, the Rio Grande has a back porch area gated off under a big arch. Kerri used to love going there, the food was good, the margaritas were really good, so good that there was a 3 margarita limit. I also remembered the Spring Break of my senior year when Shaych and I went to the Rio for dinner. I ordered a margarita (what the heck! I thought) and the waitress asked if Shaych wanted one as well. He said he did but had left his id at home so he'd just have a virgin margarita if that was ok. Well, no, it wasn't, but how old was he anyway? By the end of the evening, he had imbibed his own margarita and mine to boot. Suffice it to say, there is a reason for a 3 margarita limit... But we had fun and talked about the most outrageous things that night.
I decided to take a spin around the Oval then head to my old dorm for a bit of nostalgia. When I got onto campus at the Oval, it had gotten pretty dark. Oddly enough, there were tents and awnings pitched with a bunch of empty animal crates (the big metal bar kind). Apparently some sort of bazzar had happened today, and people were either bedding down for the night or packing up to leave. Part of the Oval was blocked to traffic so I ended up driving on the east side of campus, past the building that was reputed to have stairs ending in nothing and doors that opened to the open air. Now, I'm not sure I believe that, but I remember the story from my days as Campus Mail Delivery.
I made my way back out to Laurel and west toward Corbett Hall, conjoined with Parmalee at the kitchens (where I used to work). I entered the parking lot and circled around, pleased at all the available parking. I slid my car into my favorite spot, right in front of my old room H107, the sweetest single on campus. I had my own entrance separate from the rest of my hall, a nicely sized room, and my own bathroom (the best part, I didn't have to share with any neighbors). I also didn't have any upstairs neighbors, I was under the lounge between A and H halls, so it was blessedly quiet. I got out of the car and wandered up to the door leading into the dorm. Instead of a big lock, a pass card controller rested next to the door, and a nifty call box (like those in some apartments where you have to be buzzed in) was right outside the door. When I was in school, it was before the big cell phone boom (I didn't have one til years later, and it was still 15oz and clunky as all get out) and if you wanted to get in, you had to have your key or know a friend was coming down to get you. Yanno, uphill in the snow both ways and all.
I stood beneath the window where I used to shout up to Shaych to play something, anything, and play it loud so I could hear it. I couldn't smoke in my room, so I would hang out outside and chat with him in his room or he would come down and join me, enjoying a brief respite from the many hours of study and paper writing. I smiled as I walked under the underpass and into the courtyard. Corbett is the biggest dorm on campus, and at the time (and I imagine to this day) is also the football dorm. It's shaped like a big D with two wings flaring off by the kitchen. In the center of the D is a huge courtyard with a sand volleyball court, concrete basketball full court, and a grassy area with several huge trees. By now, it is full dark, and school is not in session yet, so I'm a bit wary, but I wandered in and sat down for a bit and enjoyed the warm night, thinking about my old room and the many many times I crossed the courtyard to go eat or pick up mail or meet someone. I thought fondly of the first time I met Shaych at the mailboxes, his warm smile and friendly manner invited me into his circle of friends. We walked across the courtyard, mail in hand, and went up into his single suite, catty-corner to mine one floor up. He was building a montage on his wall and we talked about music and politics and Madonna among other things. Since that day, he has been one of my dearest friends.
I had one last stop to make, so I gathered myself and drove up North Drive and headed toward Elizabeth Street. Campus West looked as lively as ever, the Subway still a staple of the area, with a new Qdoba and McD's. The little mediterranean food place I loved was gone, and I saw something had taken over the downstairs spot where Marshak's was until the flood of 97 destroyed the merchandise. They reopened down in Old Town and I just learned they closed for good in October 2005. I played my first ever MtG Tournaments there and bought my first serious comic book series there.
When I got to Prospect, I turned west and headed down the dark road that had few streetlights (after the blazing bright lights on Shields, this was sort of a blessing). When I got close, I had to start looking at street signs. Azalea is a winding street that loops from Prospect up to Overland. I found the correct turn and drove past a very quiet neighborhood to the little townhouse that Kerri moved into just before finals our freshman year. We had recruited Jon, the pet store guy and all around fine fellow, to help move the 55 gallon fish tank Kerri had started in her dorm room (and purchased from Jon earlier that year). Kerri's new roommate had a female basenji and during the year she lived in the place on Azalea, she had a litter of four pups, one of each. Male and female red and white and male and female tri-color. Reeses, Caramello, Snickers and Junior Mint (could you tell they were on a diet when the naming happened?)
After my final drive by, I went back to College and drove down the main strip out of town. The local market had been bought out by King Soopers, and there was a Whole Foods right there as well. I waved to the mall where we spent many many nights buying music and visiting Jon. I noticed all the chain restaurants that popped up, Applebees, Olive Garden, Lone Star. As I made my way to the highway to head for home, I saw the moon hanging on the eastern horizon. It was huge and a golden yellow-orange and it followed me all the way back. Weird Al got me home again, and I thought of the time Kerri had bought walkie talkies so we could be connected as we caravaned home for winter break. I told you it was before cell phones...
All in all, I expected this trip to be more emotionally draining than it was. Mostly I smiled and didn't even think to shed a tear. To tell the truth, I really enjoyed my trip and I think it was a great idea. Thanks, Girlzoot.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Bubbles on the wind
It is now the end of March, and Spring has begun, for the most part, with temperatures in the 60’s and beautiful blue skies and lots and lots of wind. I was driving home the other day, thinking of a quick note I had sent a friend of mine, and I started having a bit of a little girl daydream, thinking about what my wedding would be like someday (if I were getting married, having found the person and made the commitment and all those lovely things that haven’t quite happened yet).
I wandered in and out of this musing as I drove down to Aurora through an incredibly dull and drab industrial complex over long and somewhat bumpy highways and overpasses. The best parts of this drive are that one, I’m not driving into the sun, and two, when it’s over I get to have dinner with my mom. So my daydream was a pleasant diversion, giving my usually overactive imagination something to grab and shake a bit.
I had visions of a poufy (but not meringue) white dress with lace and tiny buttons, a thinner, healthier me, a handsome groom (somewhere in the distance and a bit out of focus), and my friends and family. In the past I had thought about who would give me away and the friend who graciously accepted the honor stood beside me, looking quite dapper in his tux. As I looked around to see the rest of the wedding party, my daydream burst into tiny bubbles and drifted away into the bright blue windswept sky. The image left in my mind was both comforting and sad.
I had always imagined I would have my two best friends stand up for me when the day finally arrived. I could see them in whatever puffy sleeved, sateen dress in some shade of blue the bridal party were forced to wear, one brunette with warm dark eyes filled with love and laughter, and one blonde with bright blue eyes filled with joy and mischief. For the first time, it struck me; one of my best friends won’t be there at my wedding.
I know she is gone, and I have accepted it with as much grace as I can. On the trip down to her funeral we had discussed needing more road trips for glad tidings, weddings, successes, vacations. It was not to be in those hot August days where you could hear the heat reflecting off the pavement drowning out all other sound. She has passed beyond us and nothing I say or do change that simple and final fact.
After the daydream disintegrated, I had this vision of her there, at my wedding, watching over it and smiling. The ones you love never really leave you; they live on in your memory. I only wish that I had more than my memories of her to share with me those milestones I have yet to reach.
I wandered in and out of this musing as I drove down to Aurora through an incredibly dull and drab industrial complex over long and somewhat bumpy highways and overpasses. The best parts of this drive are that one, I’m not driving into the sun, and two, when it’s over I get to have dinner with my mom. So my daydream was a pleasant diversion, giving my usually overactive imagination something to grab and shake a bit.
I had visions of a poufy (but not meringue) white dress with lace and tiny buttons, a thinner, healthier me, a handsome groom (somewhere in the distance and a bit out of focus), and my friends and family. In the past I had thought about who would give me away and the friend who graciously accepted the honor stood beside me, looking quite dapper in his tux. As I looked around to see the rest of the wedding party, my daydream burst into tiny bubbles and drifted away into the bright blue windswept sky. The image left in my mind was both comforting and sad.
I had always imagined I would have my two best friends stand up for me when the day finally arrived. I could see them in whatever puffy sleeved, sateen dress in some shade of blue the bridal party were forced to wear, one brunette with warm dark eyes filled with love and laughter, and one blonde with bright blue eyes filled with joy and mischief. For the first time, it struck me; one of my best friends won’t be there at my wedding.
I know she is gone, and I have accepted it with as much grace as I can. On the trip down to her funeral we had discussed needing more road trips for glad tidings, weddings, successes, vacations. It was not to be in those hot August days where you could hear the heat reflecting off the pavement drowning out all other sound. She has passed beyond us and nothing I say or do change that simple and final fact.
After the daydream disintegrated, I had this vision of her there, at my wedding, watching over it and smiling. The ones you love never really leave you; they live on in your memory. I only wish that I had more than my memories of her to share with me those milestones I have yet to reach.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Liquid Luminosity
Driving home tonight I was under a spell. I could barely keep my eyes on the road. An early summer thunderstorm and the setting sun painted the sky with a marvel of nature and physics, a stunning rainbow lit the stormy sky my entire drive home. At first I only saw a part of the rainbow, an arching swath of color and light spilling on the ground from the dark clouds. The colors glowed so clearly, like liquid light pouring from the sky. I could see the vivid bands of color spilling onto the ground and buildings behind it.
The other edge of the rainbow looked like a pastel drawing on dark grey paper, smeared smoothly with a celestial finger to blend the colors and light into a band of soft beauty. After a few moments the light came together and I could see the semi-circle from end to end. I thought of my great-uncle who told me a story of how he had stood on the side of one mountain and saw a three-quarter rainbow arching into the sky and dipping into the valley below him. I always wondered if there were a perfect spot to see a circular rainbow, from end to not end banded in bright liquid luminosity.
And above the main rainbow, the second rainbow shimmered at the edge of my sight, like an object in the darkness that you can't see straight on, but have to watch through your side vision. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed to me instead of being roygbiv it was vibgyor, a dim and fragile reflection of the main rainbow. Everytime I tried to look straight at it, the second one became blurry and smeary until I blinked and looked away.
The entire three-quarters of an hour I spent driving home became a study of the rainbow set as it seemed so close then moved back and back to finally become a faded rememberance of the shining glory it was, then to finally fade as the light left the sky and the rain cleared.
The other edge of the rainbow looked like a pastel drawing on dark grey paper, smeared smoothly with a celestial finger to blend the colors and light into a band of soft beauty. After a few moments the light came together and I could see the semi-circle from end to end. I thought of my great-uncle who told me a story of how he had stood on the side of one mountain and saw a three-quarter rainbow arching into the sky and dipping into the valley below him. I always wondered if there were a perfect spot to see a circular rainbow, from end to not end banded in bright liquid luminosity.
And above the main rainbow, the second rainbow shimmered at the edge of my sight, like an object in the darkness that you can't see straight on, but have to watch through your side vision. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed to me instead of being roygbiv it was vibgyor, a dim and fragile reflection of the main rainbow. Everytime I tried to look straight at it, the second one became blurry and smeary until I blinked and looked away.
The entire three-quarters of an hour I spent driving home became a study of the rainbow set as it seemed so close then moved back and back to finally become a faded rememberance of the shining glory it was, then to finally fade as the light left the sky and the rain cleared.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Morning Commute
This morning, as I do every morning, I turned off of the turnpike onto a state highway for the last leg of my commute. The parkway was a bit slow. I was running a bit late to work already and I knew this would just make me later. But what can I do? I continued along and then out of my rearview I saw this motorcycle zooming along in the right hand breakdown lane. Then another car saw him and decided to follow suit.
I have been in a few fender benders, had a couple speeding tickets (many years ago), and one careless driving ticket (long story about a U-turn and no turn signal). And as Girlzoot will tell you, I’ve run my share of red lights (they were PINK!)(well, except for that one on Leetsdale, it WAS red). In general, though, I take my safety and the safety of others around me seriously. Besides, I know that if I do something so flagrant, I’ll get caught, there’s no question.
Something else that has been bothering me: no one in their car is more important than me; we all have somewhere to be but that doesn’t mean you have to break the law or be a jerk. Besides, what would happen if there was an ACTUAL emergency and someone needed the lane, or everyone had to get over for an emergency vehicle? But that wouldn’t happen, not for just a moment while I’m driving over here in this completely empty lane… not to me… I’m so IMPORTANT…
So this morning I’m thinking that I would just get caught if I pulled anything that stupid. And as I pull around the final curve and make ready to pull into the right hand turn lane and what do I see but the little car, the motorcycle, and three or four other cars all pulled over to the side getting ticketed by two police officers. I felt such vindictive glee as I made my turn and went to work. Was I wrong to be happy at another’s misfortune? Well, they kind of brought it on themselves, now didn’t they?
And I’m still smiling.
I have been in a few fender benders, had a couple speeding tickets (many years ago), and one careless driving ticket (long story about a U-turn and no turn signal). And as Girlzoot will tell you, I’ve run my share of red lights (they were PINK!)(well, except for that one on Leetsdale, it WAS red). In general, though, I take my safety and the safety of others around me seriously. Besides, I know that if I do something so flagrant, I’ll get caught, there’s no question.
Something else that has been bothering me: no one in their car is more important than me; we all have somewhere to be but that doesn’t mean you have to break the law or be a jerk. Besides, what would happen if there was an ACTUAL emergency and someone needed the lane, or everyone had to get over for an emergency vehicle? But that wouldn’t happen, not for just a moment while I’m driving over here in this completely empty lane… not to me… I’m so IMPORTANT…
So this morning I’m thinking that I would just get caught if I pulled anything that stupid. And as I pull around the final curve and make ready to pull into the right hand turn lane and what do I see but the little car, the motorcycle, and three or four other cars all pulled over to the side getting ticketed by two police officers. I felt such vindictive glee as I made my turn and went to work. Was I wrong to be happy at another’s misfortune? Well, they kind of brought it on themselves, now didn’t they?
And I’m still smiling.
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