Wild West Show
Quickies. I zipped over to Rock Springs tonight for Mom's cousin Eileen's KKI auction at the preschool at cousin Cheri's house, which is going to be sold soon because she and Gordon are building a place up by Merna with a view of the Windrivers. I took four packs of twelve notecards to the auction that I drew on the Wacom digital tablet and printed in multiple on textured cardstock. They sold for $25.00 a set. Mom bought, among more practical things, a huge orange sweatshirt with an attached black collar, which features a glow-in-the-dark jack'o'lantern face.
The drive to Rock Springs and back was insane. I borrowed Kelly and Morgan's black Pontiac Grand Prix GTP since the Caddy recently had surgery (and supersquare Monte doesn't do the freeway unless you don't mind taking an extra hour to get where you're going) and I tell you what, that car is a guy magnet. I had truckers honking at me and Chevy trucks tailgating me suggestively and some gel-addicted geek in a white Maxima with Utah plates doing laps around me trying to get me to look at him, none of which ever happens in either of my two vehicles (thank Heaven). On the way home I almost wrecked twice thanks to my clueless roadmates and I decided I'm going to make myself a t-shirt that says I HATE TRUCKERS. If you're not going 82 miles an hour you're going too slow for them, and they'd just as soon drive you off the road as share the freeway. God forbid they should lose momentum, and none of them know how to read, apparently. "No trucks in left lane." Who do they think that sign is for? My dad drove truck and I remember him complaining about the caliber of drivers on the road today, mostly how inconsiderate and incredibly stupid they are, and he was justified. I saw one solitary highway patrolman the whole night and he was parked in the T&A lot, probably scarfing Taco Bell food instead of brutally fining any one of the Legion of Hell that is today's long-haul freight drivers. In your travels, if you happen to see a white Freightliner cab with a green-striped trailer that says Belkins on it, flip him off for me, just in case. I'm sure he couldn't see my finger in the dark.
The drive to Rock Springs and back was insane. I borrowed Kelly and Morgan's black Pontiac Grand Prix GTP since the Caddy recently had surgery (and supersquare Monte doesn't do the freeway unless you don't mind taking an extra hour to get where you're going) and I tell you what, that car is a guy magnet. I had truckers honking at me and Chevy trucks tailgating me suggestively and some gel-addicted geek in a white Maxima with Utah plates doing laps around me trying to get me to look at him, none of which ever happens in either of my two vehicles (thank Heaven). On the way home I almost wrecked twice thanks to my clueless roadmates and I decided I'm going to make myself a t-shirt that says I HATE TRUCKERS. If you're not going 82 miles an hour you're going too slow for them, and they'd just as soon drive you off the road as share the freeway. God forbid they should lose momentum, and none of them know how to read, apparently. "No trucks in left lane." Who do they think that sign is for? My dad drove truck and I remember him complaining about the caliber of drivers on the road today, mostly how inconsiderate and incredibly stupid they are, and he was justified. I saw one solitary highway patrolman the whole night and he was parked in the T&A lot, probably scarfing Taco Bell food instead of brutally fining any one of the Legion of Hell that is today's long-haul freight drivers. In your travels, if you happen to see a white Freightliner cab with a green-striped trailer that says Belkins on it, flip him off for me, just in case. I'm sure he couldn't see my finger in the dark.
posted by A at
11:45 PM
3 Comments:
Maybe they had to put forth the extra effort to get your attention because at those speeds it's a lot harder to ask if you have any Grey Poupon.
Hey A, you know what they say, "little brother trucker's a stupid mother f*****!" During my time at UW, I worked for WYDOT on a survey crew along the other end of I-80, so I feel your pain...
A GTP is a guy magnet huh? I'm glad that I don't drive one!
The caliber of motorist that was hassling me would be more likely to ask for A-1 or KC Masterpiece, which I'm betting is a cardinal sin in your book, Shepcat.
I have heard that rhyme, and I'm trying not to be so small-minded that it becomes my mantra, but yeah, sympathy counts. A buddy of mine says the carnage you witness while doing survey on I-80 makes you never want to leave your driveway ever again.
On second thought it was probably the combination of GTP and blonde that brought all this about, but hey. I'm not asking for trouble.
The word verification prompt for this comment is tiklz. Oh my.
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