Unfleetingly Slow Drivers
I just don't know how to start this blog out tonight. I am so sorely put out, I don't know what to think. I have recently posted that my 'road rage' has gotten better. And it has, really. But tonight, it was so bad, it would have made a preacher cuss! I mean it. But, come to think of it, it wasn't nearly as bad as a day I drove home from work on a hot July day after having a physically strenuous day. The temperatures had reached 103 degrees with 90% humidity and by 5:00 p.m., it hadn't cooled off very much. To make matters worse, I drove a pickup truck that had no air conditioning and the driver's window was stuck in the closed position. The only bit of air available came from the passenger side window. I had to drive at a minimum of 45 mph for the truck to lose its oven properties and I could survive inside.
When the kids were teenagers and I drove them from this activity to that activity, I would tell them that when they got their driver's license that they had better watch out for old men in white pickups. Whenever we would get behind a really, really slow person, the one who drove 35 mph in a 55 mph speed zone, I noticed that it would be an old guy and the vehicle would be a white pickup truck. Remember that.
Now, back to the story . . .
It was 5:00 o'clock one afternoon, time for me to drive home in my very hot pickup. I knew I would have a hard time getting to the edge of town without passing out from the heat. As I stated above, I have to be moving at least 45 mph to clear the heat inside the cab. Most of the roads in town are 30 mph and maybe slower, depending on who you are following.
Just my luck. At the last intersection of town, traffic was so backed up, it took 15 minutes to clear the intersection. I was heading north on the highway. While I was sitting in traffic during one of the red lights I had to endure, traffic coming from the east was turning north to go up the highway. I thought we were taking an awful long time to get through this intersection, but finally I did it. But, traffic was moving extraordinarily slow. I tried to look ahead to see what the problem was, but all I saw was miles and miles of cars moving at 35 mph. And we were in a 55 mph speed zone. We were on a highway, for heaven's sake!
At one mile north of this intersection, my armpits had long been wet and I began to sweat in unmentionable places, which was very irritating. I was still traveling at 35 mph. At two miles north of the intersection, my mouth began to lose its inhibitions with swear words.
Five miles north of the intersection, I felt sweat dripping from my scalp and my legs and arms had beads of sweat standing on them. I tried to look ahead to see the cause of the problem, but the line of cars went on to the horizon. I thought about pulling over under some shade and let the traffic pass, but there was no shade. By the five mile mark, I was cussing in a way to make my navy uncle proud.
By the time I reached the tiny town in which I live, my entire being was wet with sweat. I was as red as a lobster, not only from heat, but from lost temper as well. I was cussing in a way to make my navy uncle blush! I was truly angry with this selfish person, who I could see by now was in a white pickup! There were only about 15 cars between us But, oh, how I wish I knew who was driving the white pickup . . .
I just knew this pickup would keep traveling north and not take my westerly turn onto my road. I knew it. I knew it. I believed in the "Power of Positive Thinking". Aawwwwww, he turned down my road . . . and he was traveling at 20 mph. I prayed that the Lord would spare me a sudden death from baking.
Several cars seperated Man in White Truck from me. I was hardly breathing now, as I drove down our road. I kept reminding myself that I was on the homestretch. Don't give up!
And, I grumbled on. The swear words filled my head - I had no breath left to let them fly! I followed Man in White Truck down my road and I was dismayed when he pulled into my driveway! Now, please understand dear Reader, my driveway is shared with our neighbor (a pretty nice guy *just in case he's reading*). After about 10 feet straight up a hill, the driveway splits in 2'. mine and my neighbors. The neighbor's to the right, mine to the left. I made up my mind that I was going to complain to my neighbor about having such slow people visit him!
Oh, no, the truck did not!
It pulled into MY driveway! (Lightbulb!!)
I parked my pickup and went into the house. Dripping wet, I began to prepare supper by slamming pots and pans around. I was so angry, I couldn't (slam) speak to Old Man. I mean, how (bang) could he force me to travel (slam) home in that oven! The least he could do was (bang) speed up to the speed limit. He traveled home in air conditoning (BAM!)
Old Man entered the kitchen and asked rather sypathetically, what was wrong. "Nothing!" (slam).
"Something's the matter, or you wouldn't be murdering the pots and pans and denting up the kitchen cabinets."
"Never mind." (bang)
It wasn't long before Old Man took hold of my shoulders, spun me around to face him, all the while demanding to know what was wrong.
In typical fashion, I glared right into his eyes and said, "Old men in white pickups!!"
As a side note, I later found out (after tempers had calmed) that Old Man was coming home from the doctor's office and was feeling really bad. The only thing I have to say about that is that at least he had air conditioning!
When the kids were teenagers and I drove them from this activity to that activity, I would tell them that when they got their driver's license that they had better watch out for old men in white pickups. Whenever we would get behind a really, really slow person, the one who drove 35 mph in a 55 mph speed zone, I noticed that it would be an old guy and the vehicle would be a white pickup truck. Remember that.
Now, back to the story . . .
It was 5:00 o'clock one afternoon, time for me to drive home in my very hot pickup. I knew I would have a hard time getting to the edge of town without passing out from the heat. As I stated above, I have to be moving at least 45 mph to clear the heat inside the cab. Most of the roads in town are 30 mph and maybe slower, depending on who you are following.
Just my luck. At the last intersection of town, traffic was so backed up, it took 15 minutes to clear the intersection. I was heading north on the highway. While I was sitting in traffic during one of the red lights I had to endure, traffic coming from the east was turning north to go up the highway. I thought we were taking an awful long time to get through this intersection, but finally I did it. But, traffic was moving extraordinarily slow. I tried to look ahead to see what the problem was, but all I saw was miles and miles of cars moving at 35 mph. And we were in a 55 mph speed zone. We were on a highway, for heaven's sake!
At one mile north of this intersection, my armpits had long been wet and I began to sweat in unmentionable places, which was very irritating. I was still traveling at 35 mph. At two miles north of the intersection, my mouth began to lose its inhibitions with swear words.
Five miles north of the intersection, I felt sweat dripping from my scalp and my legs and arms had beads of sweat standing on them. I tried to look ahead to see the cause of the problem, but the line of cars went on to the horizon. I thought about pulling over under some shade and let the traffic pass, but there was no shade. By the five mile mark, I was cussing in a way to make my navy uncle proud.
By the time I reached the tiny town in which I live, my entire being was wet with sweat. I was as red as a lobster, not only from heat, but from lost temper as well. I was cussing in a way to make my navy uncle blush! I was truly angry with this selfish person, who I could see by now was in a white pickup! There were only about 15 cars between us But, oh, how I wish I knew who was driving the white pickup . . .
I just knew this pickup would keep traveling north and not take my westerly turn onto my road. I knew it. I knew it. I believed in the "Power of Positive Thinking". Aawwwwww, he turned down my road . . . and he was traveling at 20 mph. I prayed that the Lord would spare me a sudden death from baking.
Several cars seperated Man in White Truck from me. I was hardly breathing now, as I drove down our road. I kept reminding myself that I was on the homestretch. Don't give up!
And, I grumbled on. The swear words filled my head - I had no breath left to let them fly! I followed Man in White Truck down my road and I was dismayed when he pulled into my driveway! Now, please understand dear Reader, my driveway is shared with our neighbor (a pretty nice guy *just in case he's reading*). After about 10 feet straight up a hill, the driveway splits in 2'. mine and my neighbors. The neighbor's to the right, mine to the left. I made up my mind that I was going to complain to my neighbor about having such slow people visit him!
Oh, no, the truck did not!
It pulled into MY driveway! (Lightbulb!!)
I parked my pickup and went into the house. Dripping wet, I began to prepare supper by slamming pots and pans around. I was so angry, I couldn't (slam) speak to Old Man. I mean, how (bang) could he force me to travel (slam) home in that oven! The least he could do was (bang) speed up to the speed limit. He traveled home in air conditoning (BAM!)
Old Man entered the kitchen and asked rather sypathetically, what was wrong. "Nothing!" (slam).
"Something's the matter, or you wouldn't be murdering the pots and pans and denting up the kitchen cabinets."
"Never mind." (bang)
It wasn't long before Old Man took hold of my shoulders, spun me around to face him, all the while demanding to know what was wrong.
In typical fashion, I glared right into his eyes and said, "Old men in white pickups!!"
As a side note, I later found out (after tempers had calmed) that Old Man was coming home from the doctor's office and was feeling really bad. The only thing I have to say about that is that at least he had air conditioning!
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I've enjoyed writing this, as I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Please leave a comment about whether you like it or if not, constructive criticism is always welcome.