Category Archives: Driving

May 1, 2012 · 0:00

Going Downhill

It started as a theory.  An hypothesis.  And naturally, my scientific research proved my conjecture correct.  At least to the best level of scientific certainty I could muster for this particular experiment.

And so now I know exactly why the whole world is going to hell in a hand basket.

It’s the cars.  Or specifically, it’s the cars folks are driving.  Actually, it’s the specific cars specific people are not driving that is causing all the trouble.

“Huh?” you say.  OK.  I’ll back up.

It started last weekend when our family was gathered around in the family room watching a movie:  Spy Game.

I sat up a little straighter during the first scene when Robert Redford/Nathan Muir rushes across Memorial Bridge to CIA HQ at Langley in his Porsche.  [And not only because he was driving in the wrong direction,away from Langley, either.]  No, I sat up straighter because I knew that he was going to save Brad  Pitt/Tom Bishop who went rogue. (No, Brad did not quit his job as Gov’ner of Alaska.  Pay attention!)

Of course Robert Redford/Nathan Muir was going to succeed.  Was there ever any doubt? No! Of course not!  Folks who drive Porsches always succeed, don’t they?  Isn’t that how they get the Porsches?

Well, that first scene made me think.  I thought back on my extensive experience with spies, espionage and intrigue.  Since I’ve been in the DC area for the better part of 30 years, well, obviously I know a lot about spies.  Osmosis works, you know.

Anyway, that’s when I hypothesized that it is the lack of seriously cool cars in the hands of spies that has doomed the US to being a second-rate power.   You see, I live not too far from CIA HQ, and I sometimes drive right by it on my way to work. 

Hmmmmm, I thought. I don’t remember seeing cool cars driving into or out of Langley.  But I needed proof.  Damn.

Now, you can’t just hang out outside of CIA HQ.  They frown upon it, even.  So I knew that I had to be sly.  You see, in 1993 there was a terrible incident where bad guys drove in through the front entrance and started shooting people.  As a result, the CIA folks guard the entrances quite carefully, which is pretty smart.  And I’m usually glad that they do.

Well, except for one night.  That one night on the way to my house, some friends took a wrong turn and entered the facility.  Oops.  They were stopped and searched; the guards even searched the salad Zoe was carrying.  Good thing the Supreme Court hadn’t yet ruled that salad-toting folks could be strip-searched, even though the salad was still naked so it would have been pretty simple.

Anyway, to conduct my research took a bit of sacrifice on my part – I had to “stage” an accident – so I cleverly rear-ended the car in front of me so that I could hang out in front of the entrance to CIA HQ and see what-all today’s spies are driving.  It wasn’t pretty.  I saw:

22 Toyota Camrys

31 Honda CRVs

12 Buick Le Sabres

127 Jeep Grand Cherokees

47 Nissan Altimas

13 Jeep Wranglers

432 Completely nondescript cars

Nondescript car

 and 210 folks who took the bus.

Are you excited?  Envious?  Awake?

There were also several mini-vans with rear windshields covered with those Mom+Dad+Johnny+Suzie+Fido+Fluffy+Flip-flop decals on the rear windshield.  There was ONE BMW, but it was disappointing, too – it was an SUV, an X-3, with a “Love Animals Don’t Eat Them” bumper sticker on the back.

Not a cool car in the bunch.  No wonder our spies are so demoralized.

Or maybe, it is simply having to work here:

*     *     *

Hey, this is my 100th Post!

Thanks everybody for coming back.  You are coming back, aren’t you?

69 Comments

Filed under Conspicuous consumption, Driving, Humor

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February 17, 2012 · 0:00

Desperado

My husband doesn’t know it yet, but by the end of this three-day weekend, he will divorce me.  We’ve been married 25-1/2 years.  But they will be down the tubes in just a few days.

It’s sad.  And it all came about perfectly innocently.  Really.

It was a lovely morning, and today as I drove in to work, I was singing along with the radio when the song came on.  Desperado, as sung by Linda Ronstadt (not the lesser version done by the Eagles).

It just happened; I couldn’t control myself.  It tried, but really, I couldn’t help myself.  I sang with abandon.  With joy.  With knowledge aforethought.

Now, I need to tell you that my soon to be ex-husband is handicapped.  We have managed to make a good life together despite this, umm, problem.  But it can’t continue.

You see, my husband hears everything.  He cannot tune anything out.  Not music, not voices, not machinery.  I’ve never known anyone else with this particular disability.  Whenever a neighbor starts a leaf or snow blower, a power tool, anything, he hears it and is frustrated.  When a song he dislikes comes on the radio, when a commercial jingle plays, he hits the mute button faster than a Jeopardy contestant gets the buzzer.  John will scream and dive across the room to turn that damn thing off.

Poor John.  He’s never found my mute button.

And that, of course is the problem.

You see, I sing.  Now, and for the last 25-1/2 years, I have looked over my shoulder before belting out a tune.  I try to be considerate.  And usually that works out OK for both of us.

Now, you should know that I can sing.  Really!  Years of chorus and choir, voice lessons, starring roles in musical comedies written by unknowns who, tragically, went on to other careers.  I am even a critically acclaimed singer, with the reviews to prove it.  Bronzed.  One reviewer went so far as to say that I was stylish, although I am pretty sure that he was trying to get into my pants when he wrote the review.  Of course, the evidence is circumstantial, based only on the reviewer’s verbal comments to me.  Still, I’m sure his judgment wasn’t impaired.  Extra blood is known to increase musical appreciation in men.  Do I need to produce the medical studies?

Now I have a handicap, too.  Unlike my husband, I can tune out anything.  Including my own singing.  While I’m doing it.  I often just don’t notice I’m doing it.

John can deal with my singing sometimes; sometimes I just keep quiet.  It’s worked.

Except for one song.  Desperado, as sung by Linda Ronstadt (not the lesser version done by the Eagles).  You see, it gets stuck in my head.  And not even the whole song.  Just one verse:

Desperado

Why don’t you come to your senses,

you been out ridin’ fences for so long, now.

Oh, you’re a hard one

But I know that you’ve got your reasons

These things that are pleasing you

Will hurt you some how

 That’s all I can ever remember.  And that, of course, is the problem.

“Lease, you’re doing it again. Those same lines — from the middle of the song.”

“Yeah, but they’re the best lines,” I respond.  (John is never amused by that line, no matter how many times I’ve used it.  Or how cute I look while saying it.  Silence and pursed lips follow. )

This morning, when the song came on the radio, I forgot.  I forgot that I cannot ever listen to that song again.  I forgot that hearing it, even once, will result in divorce.  I forgot that it might lead to a serious change in my life.

I didn’t change the channel.  I didn’t turn off the radio.  I did not drive into a tree or a ditch or another car simply to keep myself from hearing my beloved song – the one that my husband hates above all others.

Nope, I belted it out with abandon.

And it’s still there in my head.  It wants to come out.  In fact, it will come out.  Sigh.  And I know that my marriage simply cannot stand even one rendition.  Sigh. Oh well.  What’s 25-1/2 years anyway.

Mrs. Sparkly. Or should it be Ms.?

So it is a damn good thing that Janice at AuroraMorealist gave me the Mrs. Sparkly Award.  Because I’m going to need to supplement my income with some singing.

Thanks Janice!  For anyone who is unfamiliar with Janice’s blog, check it out.  She has heart and talent and gives love with every post.

72 Comments

Filed under Awards, Driving, Family, Humor, Music

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February 7, 2012 · 0:00

In the Pink

Sometimes, I find it nearly impossible to shine, and so I just can’t help myself.  At those time I feel the need to do something a little odd, a little nutty and a lot stupid.

Apparently, that is just how the Republican-led government of my adopted state, Virginia, feels.  Because yesterday they decided that one handgun is, well, just not enough for one person, so they repealed that terrible limit, and now, we Virginians can get all the handguns we deserve.  After all, we Virginians have more than one hand, so we need more than one gun.

The limit on guns had been on the law books for 19 years.  It was repealed by a group of state senators who got elected by vowing to increase the number of jobs in the state.  Silly me, I didn’t realize they meant jobs in hospital emergency rooms and morgues.  But hey, jobs is jobs.

But the worst thing about it is I found this out the very day I found my own personal dream firearm:

The Pink Hope 22

Yes, today I learned that the Susan G. Koman foundation was selling “The Pink Hope 22.”  They were “Shooting for the Cure.”  Well, that news, combined with the news that I could now get a matched pair, well, it really made my day.

But then all hope shattered.  Crumbled.  Was blown away.  You see, apparently the Susan G. Koman foundation was all fired up about guns for quite a while.  But not now.  These days, they’ve become so damn politically correct, over this whole decision to let poor women get breast cancer, that they are no longer selling what I personally think is the perfect symbol of an organization devoted to protecting health – a pink hand gun.

I’m so bummed, I need a hug.

*****

Apparently, two of my blogging buddies knew this day would be coming.  The Island Traveler and Arindam of Being Arindam nominated me for the Hope Unites Globally or HUG Award.  Thanks Guys!

I’m not sure that I really qualify for this award, because it is for people (not necessarily blogs) that promote hope, love, peace, equality and unity for all people.  Me, I’m mostly in it for the snark.

Nevertheless, I have it proudly on my blog and am passing it on to three folks who have been wonderfully supporting of my writing, even before my days as an Award Winning Blogger …

Delajus at Higher and Higher

Jamie at Sleep Deprived and Insane

Lisa at Eat Plants, said the Cow

72 Comments

Filed under Awards, Driving, Family, Gun control, Humor, Hypocrisy, Stupidity, Susan G. Komen

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January 14, 2012 · 0:00

Connections

My sisters and I never saw eye to eye; rather we heard heart to heart through our telephone receivers.  We lived a good distance away for most of our lives.  And so our connections, close as they were, were nearly always via long distance calls.

The ear pieces on the phone grew increasingly warm and comforting with each laugh, each tease and each word we spoke.  We spent hours on the phone, twisting the curly, stretched cord around our body parts, spilling out our hearts and our triumphs and our woes.  But there is no record, no evidence, and sadly fewer clear recollections.

So I made up some memories.

*     *     *

I began to question the wisdom of this trip as soon as the line went dead.

The call Thursday night was unexpected.  Sam and Dave – customers from the burger joint I’d worked in back home — had tracked me down in Boston.  I’d left home six months earlier, and was surprised that the guys had found me.  They had said they were in Boston often and promised to look me up – but so had a lot of people.

Six months away from home hadn’t been nearly as fun as I expected my “coming of age” to be.   I hesitated to admit that I was lonely and would love some company.  But I hadn’t even thought about Sam and Dave – forgotten them, in fact.  Well, I barely knew them to begin with.  Sam was tall, blond, nice smile.  A well done hamburger with fries; Dave was shorter with shaggy brown hair that he often pulled back.  He liked his cheeseburger rare with onion rings.  Both drank Coke.  One of them drove my favorite car, a 1974 Datsun 240Z.  Blue.

“Great, we’ll pick you up Saturday at 10,” one of them said.  Was it Dave?  He and Sam were on separate extensions and kept finishing each other’s sentences like an old married couple.

“Yeah, Steve gave us the address along with your number.   See you Saturday!” said the other – Sam, I guessed.  And then they hung up.

They didn’t leave a number so I couldn’t call them back.  For that matter, they didn’t leave their last names.  First names, a car (cool as it was) and burger preferences.  That was all I knew.  Yet I had just agreed to spend the weekend with them at the Cape.

At only 19, I hadn’t done too many stupid things with guys yet.  So I called my older sister, Judy, 24, who had.

“This is ridiculous,” I told Judy, pacing back and forth across my tiny apartment like a bobcat in the zoo. “I can’t possibly go.  I don’t know who they are.  And I can’t possibly call them back – they didn’t leave their number.  They didn’t leave their last names.  They didn’t even tell me where I just agreed to go.   God, this has all the makings of a Hitchcock picture.”

“Are you Tippi Hedren or Janet Leigh?”  Jude roared at her own joke.  “You’ve known these two cute guys for three years and never went out with them?  Either of them?  Or both of them – together?” she teased.  “God you’re boring.  You’d be Doris Day in a Hitchcock movie.”

“I’m just going to have to talk to them when they get here on Saturday.”

“Ok,” said Jude, swallowing her laugh. “You’ll talk to them on Saturday.  Good plan,” she burst out again, “especially because you can’t talk with them before that because you didn’t get their number,” she said, gasping for breath.

I began to relax.  Somehow, when I told my troubles to Judy, they stopped being problems and became situation comedy.

“You’re a huge help.  I’ll call you back next time I need abuse.”

“Anytime,” Judy said, hanging up.

I spent Friday at work bouncing between laughing and worrying.  I didn’t pack.  Of course I wouldn’t go with them – I didn’t even know their last names!

At 10 am Saturday the doorbell rang.  “Shit.”

“We’re here,” Dave or Sam said through the intercom system.  Another reason not to go – I couldn’t keep them straight.  I buzzed them in, and took a deep breath.  I still didn’t know what to do.

Did it take an hour for them to climb the two flights or were they upstairs in a flash?  Suddenly I felt queasy.  “Oh God,” I thought as I shut the bathroom door, “what would Judy do?”  I sat on the toilet for the longest time, trying not to panic.  At last, I smiled, shrugged and said “oh, what the hell.”  I walked back into the main room and said “I’m not quite done packing, but I’ll be just a minute.”

I threw a bathing suit, a change of clothes, and a couple of other things in a backpack.  “There’s just one thing,” I said, smiling at my dates,  “I’d love to drive the Z.”

*     *     *

Me, Judy, and Beth, a while ago

49 Comments

Filed under Driving, Family, Humor, Stupidity

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January 5, 2012 · 0:00

Smarter than me

Lori over at Sunny Side Up posted a piece this morning about parallel parking.  She can’t do it.  Me, I can do it pretty well; I just can’t spell it without spell check.

And it made me think.  Well, that and a cup of coffee.

Now, it may just be the Cheerios talking, but I am starting to be afraid of cars.  Afraid of crossing in front of them, of crossing behind them and of driving anywhere near them.

I don’t like being around inanimate objects that are smarter than I am; and when they can move without my throwing them, well, it paralyzes me.

Have you seen the gizmos they’re putting in cars nowadays?  Lori, you can get a car that can parallel park itself.  Lori, wisely keeps looking for a place.  (Me, I had a bad-boy boyfriend when I was a teenager who taught me how to do it.  But I digress.)

But based on the commercials, by the time the Ford Focus maneuvers into the spot, I would have wet my pants, because these days I parallel park only when I stop to buy coffee/use the restroom after being stuck in traffic.

These gadgets though, terrify me.  There’s one that will brake automatically if you get too close to the car ahead of you.  What if you’re in the sort of traffic we have here in Northern Virginia.  Hell, I’d have whiplash on my first commute.

Have you seen the one that keeps you from hitting the car in your blind spot?  I’m not quite sure how that one works.  It might involve wheel-destroying spikes, a la Ben Hur, or maybe flame throwers, but hey you won’t hit that car.  And you won’t even need to look over your shoulder.  Cause looking over your shoulder can be dangerous.

And then there is the one that vibrates when it thinks you’re falling asleep.  I’m sure it will know exactly when you’re going onto the other side of the road to avoid pot holes, small animals and wheel-destroying spikes coming from the cars that won’t let their drivers look over their shoulders.  I’m positive.  Because no in-car gizmo has ever, ummmm, not worked properly, right?

I am surely not alone in my fear of these gizmos.  Because anyone who has ever had a car with an electronic device in it knows that they break down all the time.

Me, I stopped trusting them about 2 months after I got my current car.  It has lots of gizmos and I trusted one of them once, while backing up.  My car has a Road Runner stuck in side of it.  It goes “beep beep” when I get too close to anything behind me.  It is supposed to “beep beep” in a progressive fashion, as I get closer to stuff.  It goes apoplectic if I reverse to within 5 feet of a wall – knowing that I won’t be able to open the back hatch sends it into a frenzy.  Especially since I only open the back on weekends and at places where there are no walls.  The car will, of course, allow the nose of my car to be in the middle of the driving lane without a peep, though.

I trusted the “beep beep” once.  I was backing up into the only spot left in a garage.  It was the only way in.  My car was filled with a bunch of kids who were being kids and making noise.  Sadly, none of them said “beep beep.”  Neither did the car.  I inched into the wall, giving my  new car a custom bumper.  It is dented in as if someone hit it with a large muffin.

I’m pretty sure that these new safety features are going to lead to some pretty interesting reality TV shows.  And I guess anything that can make those shows worth watching might be worth a shot.

56 Comments

Filed under Driving, Gizmos, Humor, Technology, Traffic

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