Riding Shotgun

Key in the ignition. Seat belt securely fastened. Put shifter in drive.

So I'm on the road again, overnight in New York. There's a relentless rain storm pummeling the area. It's eerily similar to the last time I stayed in this very hotel back in May. I stood under a small smoker's shelter and puffed a cigar, forced to stand at an angle so the stick doesn't get wet.

I'm here with a group of my peers. We had dinner earlier and during the ride back from the hotel the skies opened up. One of my colleagues found that her windshield wipers stopped working. Not good. The roads back to the hotel were dark and visibility was poor even with working wipers! She had to drive with her head out the window, face lanced by the rain with hazard lights flashing. Ever been there before? Not good.

Other drivers who don't know what you're going through aren't exactly patient. We're probably shouting at the windshield, "What's wrong with this idiot!?!"  With no shoulder to take respite there weren't many options for her. I was having a cigar under the shameful smoker’s awning when she walked up from the parking lot, soaked and shaky from the ordeal.

On my drive to NY on Tuesday a commercial pickup truck fitted with a racking system loaded with ladders cut me off. The driver flew out of a gas station doing about 20mph. I don't know how he built up that much speed coming out of a small lot! I was driving 45mph, the posted speed limit. After a heavy dose of brakes and a chorus of "you have to freakin' kidding me", the road we were driving on went from one lane to two.

The truck shifted to the left lane and I stayed to the right. We both approached a red light. It turned red well before I could have sped through it so I slowed down, eager to get a look at the moron in the truck. No such luck. The guy blew the light. It was red for at least two Mississippi's. The cars entering the intersection from the left had to brake as they started their approach. The driver of the first car gave the truck the bird.

Maybe he didn't want to sit at a light beside the guy, me, that he just cut off. Maybe he was just in a huge hurry. Maybe he is just a douche bag. We'll never know.

When I got the bricks for my new fire pit last weekend I was worried that the weight would be too much for Melanie's Honda CRV. The wheels looked like they would burst if i hit so much as a routine pothole. So I took my time driving back, eased into the turns, gave extra time for braking & stopping and obeyed all speed limits.

Well that wasn't acceptable for the driver of a black Saturn behind me. I saw him approach and ride right up to my bumper. He tried to intimidate me by staying as close as he could and then did that move where he drifted out over the yellow center lines so I could see most of his car in the side view mirror. I refused to go any faster and this idiot was trying to scare the wrong guy.

He then dropped back a few car lengths and then raced up to my bumper again. His little games went on for a few more minutes.

Now anyone who knows me will tell you I don't usually honk the horn or get confrontational with road rage stuff. It does drive me insane but like the previous tale, I usually yell at my windshield not the driver. Well not today.

We approached a stoplight. There was a one lane to continue straight and a left hand turning lane. I stayed straight and the idiot came up on my left. I lowered my window but the car stopped far short so I couldn't see my enemy. The light turned green but I didn't move. The other car pulled up alongside me and all the windows were down. I saw the 17yr old driver; he looked to be bracing for an impact he knew was coming. I lashed out with a short, curse-laden attack. He cringed. I drove on.

Because of my hesitation at the green light another driver was riding my bumper but I ignored it. Nothing could bother me now. I drove on in bliss until I got home.

Pull the turn signal down. Wait for oncoming cars to pass. Make the left turn.

Maybe a month ago, I succumbed to temptation and ate lunch inside a fast food restaurant. While devouring the meal and wiping grease from my beard, the manager on duty slammed the phone down on the base. It was loud enough to trigger head turns and jaws ceased to chew across the dining area.

The manager, I later learned her name is Kimberly started complaining about the customer she just spoke to. "Some chick wants her order replaced. Same old, same old, you know!" Man, she was loud.

"Ashley, that's her name. She's coming through drive thru. She can't even come inside to do it. I hate when people do this because she knows it’s wrong. She even wants the drinks replaced even though she was just here! If it’s the lady I think it is, don't give it to her. She's done it like four times! The whole thing is all wrong.

A female worker in the background yells, “Just tell her she can’t have it. That you can’t just give it to her if she doesn’t come inside!”

Kimberly shouted back, “I cannot tell her that unless I see her face. I cannot tell her over the phone, no. I'll get in trouble.

Male employee ringing register says, “I don't even remember bagging that order.”

“You two don’t get it. I have to see her face. I have to be sure or she could call in and complain.”

Of course this debate lasted longer than my meal. I wanted to stay for the exciting conclusion, but duty called. I want to swing by there for lunch sometime soon and see if she’s still there. Maybe I could pull the same scam as Ashley and see how I get treated!

Gently pump breaks. Stop. Shift into reverse. Back down  driveway.

I’m parked in a lot waiting for a store to open. I hear a strange jangling coming from my left. I see a man who appears around 45 to 50 years old jogging behind a shopping cart full of aluminum cans and bottles. He’s got a couple large bags hanging off the sides of his cart too. As he jogs behind his cart along the sidewalk of the strip center, he shifts his gaze from somewhere in the parking lot beyond me and the entrance to a grocery store. Now he’s yelling something in what I think is Spanish. He’s slows to a fast walk but doesn’t stop. He’s keeps looking into the lot. He starts jogging again.

Now I hear a new noise. More can jangling but more muffled. I look back and to the right and see two men struggling with a shopping cart loaded with cans and bottles and several of the largest lawn and leaf bags created by man strapped to the cart, filled to the brim. They look frustrated. Their cart is overburdened and if they attempted to run, they would lose some of their load.

The solo cart driver continues his taunts right up until he makes it to the entrance of the bottle redemption area. He disappears from view. The duo with the heavy cargo presses on. 

I think to myself, “At least their embracing free enterprise. Competition at it’s finest. Adam Smith would be proud. I think.”

Shotgun Blog

I have too many blog ideas jotted down to ever dedicate single blogs to each.  Today I’m going to use a scatter pattern to cause as much damage as possible. If you’re a fan of the TV show Deadliest Warrior, the new season kicked off last week with a match up for the ages: Napoleon Bonaparte vs. George Washington. Both generals employed the use of cannons. Napoleon gained acclaim for his effective and deadly use of “grapeshot” in the cannon. Instead of a large iron projectile, several smaller iron balls were loaded in the barrel and fired into the enemy line.

Washington didn’t have grapeshot. The revolutionary army didn’t have the funding, so his “scattershot” consisted of whatever he could find: nails, bits of metal and whatever else he could ram down the barrel of his 6lb cannon. The grapeshot and scattershot wounded many assets simultaneously. The traditional, single 6lb or 8lb cannonball may or may not have collateral damage depending on what it struck.

So here we go. I have seen some strange smoking habits lately. A person driving down the highway with all the windows rolled up smoking a cigarette. I could see the haze through the glass. Not an attack on smoking here, but who else besides the driver wants to ride in that car?

I’m looking out the window at work and see a young guy, probably about 25 years old approach a trash can. It’s the kind that has a large exterior shell and a door you open to drag the actual can out to change the bag. On top of the shell is this round hole where you can snub out your lit cigarette. The guy sticks hand in the hole, pulls out the remnants of a cig and puts it between his lips. He walks on without lighting it. That struck me on a couple levels. Someone you don’t even know had that in their mouth. You have no idea how long it sat in the top of a trash can. Re-lighting a cigarette can’t taste as good as fresh one. What am I saying? You think that guy cares about taste?

I was parked in a long drive thru line at Dunkin Donuts. An employee was arriving for work, uniform shirt draped over his arm smoking a cigarette. He must’ve lit it as he got out of his car because of its length. I expected him to stand beside the entrance and smoke for a few minutes.  Instead, he scraped it across the side of a trash can a few times knocking off the hot ash. He walked into the shop with it still in his hands. Did he really need to take five drags before he walked through the door? I shook my head in confusion.

Bearing witness. I always have my radar on. In a parking lot last week I observed a man in his forties exit his SUV. He held what looked like a DVD in his hand. A woman and a boy of 8 or 9 years old walked from a different car to meet with the man. The woman had her arm around the boy’s shoulder. They all stopped, standing closely together and spoke. The man handed the DVD to the boy. He inspected it and then dropped his arms to his sides, head tilted toward the ground. I approached and could now hear the conversation.

“Ok, then,” the man said, “I guess I’ll see you later. Have a good week with your mom.”

“Uh, huh,” The boy said. The woman said a quiet goodbye to the man. He turned to walk back to his truck. He was wearing a striped polo shirt, khaki pants with a beeper clipped to his belt. His glasses gave him a John Lennon-like appearance.

The mother and son walked across my path and I heard him speak. “A movie, mom? Really?” she didn’t respond and we all kept walking.

Traffic signals. I have blog or posted on facebook my displeasure with humankind’s ability to obey traffic signals and signs. Yesterday I stopped by the old house to do some last minute cleaning. There’s an extreme intersection that is a three-way stop. Two of the directions of travel have blind views of each other. You have to stop and then inch forward to make sure you’re OK to proceed. The third entry to the intersection gives you a great view to both. No one ever stops at that third entry. The best I’ve seen most people manage is a slow roll through. Some folks blast by without slowing. I always wonder why the town doesn’t either monitor it with police or install one of those cameras that send you a ticket in the mail after you blow a red light. Maybe they can’t do that with stop signs yet?

So yesterday I’m making the approach from the third side, the side where you can see really well. A guy driving a large pickup truck comes down the hill of one of the blind approaches and doesn’t even tap his breaks. As he passes I slowly enunciate the words stupid fucking prick, hoping he can read lips. Both our windows were up so that’s the best I could manage. I'm not a fan of cursing but breaking the rules while driving a wrecking ball-on-wheels unleashes what I usually keep well restrained.

I saw three different cars run red lights last week. Each one was about the same: the light is yellow and the cars in front of them actually accelerate to get through the yellow. The last car really stomps the gas but is too late and drives into the red light. Cars with the new green lurch forward and then hit the brakes in time to escape an accident.

Are we really in that much of a hurry? Really? I was travelling with someone on Friday and he asked me questions about work/life balance, stress and travelling all the time. I had to laugh because these days I’m not in a hurry for anybody or anything. I plan out my month as best I can and leave some wiggle room for the fire drills and curve balls that inevitably come my way. What’s to worry about? It’s just work. When it’s time to work, I focus on work. When it’s time to go home, I go home and don’t think about it until…it’s time to go back.

Is that what’s got people rushing around? Trying to get more done in less time. Guess what? That’s impossible. I read a great line about multi-tasking recently. It said multi-tasking was like alchemy. It’s as much a fantasy to get more done in the same amount of time as it is to turn base metals into gold. Brilliant. Stuff takes times. Planning how you will use your time and limiting distractions will get things done.

I’m driving on the highway two weeks ago. The four lanes on the east-bound side are packed and moving slowly, maybe 30mph. A split is coming up. Two lanes will go left, two go right. I’m in the extreme right lane. On my left is a sedan and in front of him is a tall but short bus. The kind of bus that you see used as shuttles at airports. The sedan is nearly touching the bus. I can’t see the driver because of his or her tinted windows but I remember thinking, “Why are you following that bus so close?”

Then it happened. The bus swerved to the right and into my lane. I swerved right, close to the barrier. I could now see that the bus had swerved to avoid a broken down car that was parked on that triangular spot where and roads or exit ramps diverge. The car had its hazard lights flashing. It didn’t help. The tailgating sedan slammed right into the trunk of the parked car. The driver never had a chance to see it because of tailgating.

I remember during my driver’s education course something similar happened to me. I was driving with the instructor and was following a city bus. The bus drove into an intersection. Once the bus got close to the traffic signal I couldn’t see it anymore. As the bus got far enough into the intersection I saw the light was now red. I froze and the instructor stomped his brake. I got a good lecture for that one. But I was 15 and new to driving on city streets.

Driving on country roads when parents weren’t around. I did that a few times. I’m pretty lucky. Hey, a 15 yr. old tooling around in the family car with no license or supervision, what could happen?

My  backyard is pretty peaceful. The rain is drumming quietly on the sun porch roof. Today’s project is the hallowed fire pit.  Pictures at 11. 

Torrington Football Letterman's Club Golf Outing

I won't waste much space with words tonight. Here are some pics from the TFLC Golf Outing on June 24th. Enjoy. We'll get them on Facebook and the TFLC site soon. Thanks!

It's been a few weeks since the gala event and these pics have been burning a hole in my media card.