Tag Joy Ride

You think your commute is challenging

Michael Leave a comment

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?)

 

Just Stuff

Michael Leave a comment

We’ve made no secret that we like to do a little joy riding when we feel the need for a little joy in a weekend.  He of We has a little 2 seat roadster and She of We keeps a bottle of sun screen in her door pocket.  It works.  Usually.  Sometimes we find ourselves scratching our heads over something somebody – sometimes us – has done.  Let us explain.

Once on an afternoon drive through the park we stopped at a “little bit of everything” store.  They have tools, hunting and fishing gear, canned goods, sports memorabilia, boxed candy, various needle-works supplies, furniture, plumbing fixtures, wheelbarrows, doll houses, and trees.  How can you pass up a deal on trees.  We couldn’t.  Just because the tree was about 20 miles from where it was going to be planted might make mere people say “let’s think about this.”  Not us.  We’re Reality People.  And we did not want to drive back and forth a few times to get the right vehicle with the right storage capacity in the right parking lot to transport a tree.  It’s just a tree.  To make a long story short, in order not to damage the trunk or the trunk, it ended up between She of We’s legs in the front seat, extending about 3 feet above the windshield.  We drove slow.  Which made eating the ice cream we stopped for easier.

On another excursion we passed a row of simply beautiful houses.  It’s easy when you seek out a high end housing plan where somebody is turning out mansion after mansion just like a suburban factory project.  Often we find the people in the million dollar homes have the same things in their driveways and side yards we have in ours and we smile happily.  This one afternoon in this one neighborhood we weren’t in a plan.  We were among bona fide multiple million dollar manors rivaling anything Hollywood so to be exes would fight over.  Just beautiful.  And we weren’t but 100 feet from their front doors.  We wanted to walk up each rolling expanse of lawn and ring the bell just to say hello.  And among them, among the carefully landscaped, fenced, fountained, and paved portraits of residential indulgence, lay a deflated 24 foot round, 4 foot tall inflatable portable swimming pool.  Complete with knocked over steps.

Then there was the time we stopped at a farm market.  We’ve stopped at several and usually find the freshest bargains for the evening’s dinner.  If they have a good gift shop we could pick up birthday, anniversary, and Christmas gifts for several occasions.  But this stop took the cake.  Or rather, took the pie.  Not to say it wasn’t home-made but on this display case sat several absolutely identical looking $14 pies.  Right next to the $10 peaches, $6 blueberries, and $16 skirt steaks from “local” beef.  Trust us.  We’re local and there’s no beef where we are.  A little checking and we found that their corn might be theirs.  The rest was bought from the same purveyors that the mega-mart on the hill goes to.  Shame on them!

Not on a weekend drive, He of We recently was at that mart.  He did his shopping (New York Strip, $8 for a 12 ounce cut) and moved over the giant home supply store that shares the hill.  There he found a guy tying a set of mini-blinds to the back of his motorcycle.  “Let me tell you about this tree,” He of We said to him.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?