Um, you talking to me?
So Tuesday night, on my way home from a particularly demeaning day of corporate graphic design drudgery, I had the radio on, the top down, trying to soak up the some of the sun’s soothing rays. It’s been raining here for what seems like weeks, and although the state needs it, it’s not much fun in a convertible in need of a new top.
But that day was sunny and a little cooler, so the top was down and as I cruised along the highway at the rush-hour speed of seven miles an hour, all I wanted to do was get home and crash. Which, of course, I couldn’t do, because I had several hours of freelance work left, but at least I could be at home in my totally disorganized and only partially unpacked apartment.
Once we finally escaped the freeway, traffic meandered through the streets at whatever speed it could, and seeing how this was the end of the day, we were all going five miles an hour over the limit, which put us at 45MPH on this particular stretch of the road.
Suddenly, interrupting my sunny, quiet ride home, comes a voice from above:
“Speed limit’s 40, buddy.”
Since we all know that God sounds more like James Earl Jones than Gilbert Gottfried, I knew it wasn’t Him, so I look around trying to figure out who it was. As I do so, I notice that others in their cars are doing the same thing, looking around as if to see where the voice had come from.
Good. If others heard it too, at least I wasn’t losing my mind.
Since we were all going with the flow of traffic, I ignored The Voice, until, again:
“In the blue convertible - speed limit’s 40.”
Okay, now that’s getting a little specific. Completely disregarding the cars around me and the street I’m on, I crane my neck to look around and see who’s talking to me, as does everyone else on the road. That’s when I see him - some clown in a truck a couple car lengths back, addressing me on a P.A. system.
The truck has a light bar on top of it, and in my mirror I can make out some kind of insignia on the door. Because I can’t tell if it is the seal for, say, the Sheriff’s Department, I decide against sending him the bird or lighting the wheels up and zipping away, I keep my speed and we get stopped at the next red light. Stopped, I can tell that the seal on the side is the State of the Great State of Arizona, so there’s a chance it could be Highway Patrol, or who knows what else. I figure that with the day I’d had, I should probably just let the idiot go by so I’m not tempted to antagonize him. Even though I wasn’t really going that direction, I signal and turn right up a side street.
Of course the dude turns too.
“Speed limit’s 35 here, buddy.”
By now, I couldn’t care less. It’s one of those days that I’m glad I don’t carry a gun, because I was about one public address comment away from a road-rage incident. Remember that movie Falling Down? As long as there are no children in the road, I’ll go whatever the hell speed I want. And it’s your fault too, mister vocal defender of the roadway.
Deciding now that if he had any kind of authority, he’d realize that if I speed up to get away from him there’s no way he could cite me without facing entrapment, so I punch it and zip away, to put some distance in between us. That’s my general policy with all persons crazy or otherwise mentally deranged, loudspeaker or not.
“35!” It comes again, louder now, it echoes through the neighborhood.
Up ahead, I see the upcoming stop light change to yellow. If I speed up, I’ll end up running the red light, and if I don’t, this idiot will be stopped behind me, loudspeaker ringing for all to hear, and I’m just not in the mood. Without slowing down, I veer left down another side street, and fading into the distance behind me is the “25 on that one, buddy!”
By now I was seething. I actually hoped that when I popped back out on the main street that this tool was in front of me so I could shout his speed into the back of his head. Or at least get his license plates. Alas, he was no where to be found. All the rest of the way home I wondered how fast I was going, since now, I was without an asshat to announce it to me. Oh, if only there was some sort of device on my dash that could ease my confusion!
So, let’s recap, pointed directly at you with the P.A. system: in an effort to slow one specific car down in a sea of cars, all whom were going five miles over the speed limit, you, mister State Employee, use a piece of state property to verbally antagonize one of the taxpayers who not only paid for that truck, but your salary as well. Great plan! At least you’re being proactive. But just as food for thought, here are some bullet points as to why your well-thought-out, easy-to-implement idea had a 100% failure rate:
- While trying to figure out where the nasally voice was coming from, myself, and about forty other drivers, took our eyes off the road, looked around and/or reached for our radios.
- Your stupid back-seat driving antics had the effect of causing me to speed by an even greater amount, to get away from a potential Mayor McCrazy. And on residential streets, no less. Bonus points!
- I was tempted to slam on my brakes so you would crash into the back of my car, which I’m sure you would have enjoyed.
- Just because I don’t carry a weapon, doesn’t mean that others don’t. In Arizona, something like 30% of the cars on the road have a gun in them. With those odds, and your obvious predisposition as a people-person, I hope your truck is bullet proof. Or at least your cranium.
- And lastly, and probably more importantly, I am not your buddy.
August 9th, 2007 at 12:03 pm
I’m thinking baseball bat to the light bar, head lights and the guy’s face.
August 9th, 2007 at 2:54 pm
What I can’t figure out is that of all the folks on the road, why did this clown decide that I would be worth haranguing? I’m not a small guy, and sometimes in this car I look like I’m sitting on a child’s toy. Throw in the fact that I’d had a bad day, was sporting a scowl and blaring rock music, I would think that off all the people on the road who’s chain looked like it needed yanking, I was at the bottom of the list.
I think the answer is simple: I didn’t have a cigar in my mouth. Yet another reason to smoke more than, eh, about one a year is where I’m at.
Take Magnum, for instance. With the exception of his sensitive closet boss, nobody gave him crap on a whim. Of course I don’t drive a Ferrari, but maybe the theory still applies. I’ll have to go out and grab a few that Brian recommended for my drives.
August 10th, 2007 at 4:43 pm
That’s gotta be one of the creepiest/weirdest road story I’ve heard in quite a while. I’ll bet ya, if that idiot got pulled over, he’d be in jail for DUI or possession.
That reminds me of the time somebody told me to stop swearing because she found it offensive. I was having serious computer issues, facing a very important college deadline and swearing under my breath. All that did was make me even more angry and swear more.
Do yourself a favor, grab a CAO Gold or Gold Maduro for the ride. Or an Oliva, any of them. I actually look forward to my commutes since I started smoking cigars on the way. I almost, ALMOST wish I had more of a commute so I could smoke a full sized cigar without standing in the parking lot for half an hour.
August 11th, 2007 at 4:04 pm
I’m going to ask for the Magnum PI Series on DVD for Christmas. My dad used to watch it all the time when I was growing up and I watched reruns in college.
August 13th, 2007 at 7:54 am
Isn’t that weird? I think it would be worse if he wasn’t driving some sort of state vehicle, but then again, that’s exactly why it is creepy to begin with.
It’s hard to go wrong with Magnum on DVD. I’m glad someone else shares my interest in 80’s television. Even my wife won’t watch Magnum when it comes on TV. I figured that with Tom Selleck she’d be all over it, but she seems to take issue with the mustache and half-open shirt.
August 13th, 2007 at 7:59 am
Women just don’t understand good TV. My wife still doesn’t understand how great a show the Dukes of Hazard was.
August 13th, 2007 at 8:10 am
Dukes of Hazzard was great. I, of course, had the metal Dukes lunchbox. I wish I still had it.
I was a sucker for Simon & Simon too, another show I can’t seem to get anyone else to appreciate.
August 13th, 2007 at 8:17 am
Dukes of Hazzard, Magnum P.I., and the A Team. I think that summarizes my childhood! It’s funny, I was watching DoH as a kid in Oregon, and find myself somehow in DoH-land as an adult.
Now excuse me while I jump my office chair over the cube wall onto an annoying co-worker… Yeeeeeeeee Haawwww!
August 13th, 2007 at 8:19 am
How could we fit MacGuyver!
August 13th, 2007 at 8:19 am
errr “forget”
August 13th, 2007 at 8:51 am
MacGuyver! That’s a good candidate for a NetFlix series marathon…
August 13th, 2007 at 9:20 am
Have you guys seen the MacGruber spoof that Saturday Night Live does? Although he dies every time, the crap he tries to pull together to save himself is just as crazy as it was on the real show. Good stuff.
August 13th, 2007 at 10:41 am
No, but it sounds awesome. maybe I can find a few clips on YouTube…
August 13th, 2007 at 2:40 pm
Loved Simon & Simon as well as Magnum and The Dukes. But how about Hunter and Quincy (reaching back pretty far for that one but I LOVED it!).
By the way, that was one crazy story, JD! I have ‘Falling Down’ moments all the time when I’m back here in the states. I can’t believe I have to move back here soon. Uhg.
August 13th, 2007 at 2:44 pm
H&Q doen’t ring any bells with me, but I lived a pretty sheltered life gorwing up, so it’s not all that uncommon to be able to stump me with common references that most people would know.
August 15th, 2007 at 8:09 am
That sounds scary (and by the way I LOVE the Dukes of Hazzard and the A team and ok I loved Magnum PI’s car). Here in Britain the guy’s behaviour would be a no brainer. You are driving convertible. That’s enough here… oh yes and you say it’s small, speaking as somebody who has driven a succession of small convertibles you wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve had to put up with from passers by…
Oh yes and he thought you were going faster because your car is sporty, like the old ladies on the pavement who wave at me to slow down as I accelerate out of my road. Never mind the fact I go from 0 to 20 in a 30 and stay at 20 all down the street (lots of kids and pedestrians about). I know it’s just because I have a small sports car with no lid.
Oh and lol… mine leaks like a bastard!
Cheers
BC
August 15th, 2007 at 8:48 am
Oh, BC, so you’re a classic Ferrari fan, eh? Aside from the sheer amount of hair on that show, you just couldn’t go wrong with Magnum P.I.
You mean the top leaks like a bastard, or the engine? Or, god forbid, both? Post up some pics of your car some time…I’m a car nut too!
Although my car is topless, “sporty” may not be the word I’d choose for it. In fact, these cars were nicknamed “Flying Bricks” here in the states. That should tell you something.
August 17th, 2007 at 7:43 am
Ah ha! So flying brick… something with a whopping engine but not much aerodynamism? Go on then, what is it? If you want to see mine, here it is… http://babychaos.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/mycar.jpg
Cheers
BC!
August 17th, 2007 at 7:45 am
Oh, I’ve seen that image before…unless that really is yours! In which case, I’d probably snub you on the road too, if I could catch you!
Here’s mine.
August 17th, 2007 at 7:48 am
Damn! Of course I should have said “I’ve shown you mine now you show me yours!” It’s the lid that leaks… not too much for a lotus as in no I don’t get showered as I’m driving along but it gets in when it’s left parked outside in the rain (which is where it lives, poor thing, that’s my street in the picture). It was fine when I was driving about 200 miles a day but nowadays it doesn’t get the same time to dry out!
Cheers
August 17th, 2007 at 7:52 am
That is a beautiful car. For whatever reason, I envisioned something more along the lines of the classic MG, Roadster, or maybe even a cool retro Mini.
You, my friend, win with the Lotus.
August 20th, 2007 at 5:18 am
Ah the classic MG, though not the roadsete, sadly, came before! The order is Triumph Toledo, Triumph Spitfire, MGB GT, Rebuilt Spitfire, Lotus… Mwah ha ha haaargh! Yes five years and I still can’t accelerate without laughing manically.
Cheers
BC