The weather forecasters are saying it will be chilly this weekend, somewhere between 25 and 30 degrees colder than the first half of this week and only 8 degrees above freezing during the daytime. That will probably be a better time to take the little car out for a spin than in clear, 70 degree, sunshiney weather.

If you’ve been reading for a while you know I have a little red convertible that gets about as much use as you would imagine in an area where the average temperature is 52 degrees F and it rains or snows almost 150 days a year. But when the sun comes out the top goes down and I understand the true meaning of the phrase “worth the wait.” Right up until some guy with more testosterone than brains spots me.

I went out in the middle of the day when the real men with huge pick-up trucks riding on 28 inch wheels with massive brush guards, multiple running lights, and chrome steps to get into the cab should have been at work doing something involving torches and welders’ masks and comparing tattoos. But no, there was one about ¾ mile behind me when I slipped onto the onramp of the local expressway. I heard him, or rather his mufflerless behemoth, snarling up behind me. He closed that ¾ mile before I made it all the way to the end of the acceleration ramp and in his desire to make certain I knew he had more horsepower at his disposal than I did, he passed me on the single lane ramp and launched himself onto the highway mainline. Right in front of another mini-monster truck a few miles per hour above the speed limit. It was a spectacular sight in my rear view mirror. You could almost see their premiums going up.

I pulled onto the shoulder and waited until I saw that both of the not quite matured miscreants were moving about on their own power and then eased back into traffic and continued on my spring shake-out tour. You would think I’d have been shocked at the carnage (or trucknage if you prefer) and I was the first time or two such craziness happened. Unfortunately this goes on every year when I, and presumably everyone else with a weekend roadster, first hit the road.

In a month or so the craziness will wane perhaps because the crazy mongers become used to seeing us on the road again or perhaps because they run out of clean underwear.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

(Yes, I know this is St. Patrick’s Day and I didn’t say anything about that in my post. Monday was Pi Day and I didn’t bring that up then either. I’m not totally predictable.) (Am I?)