And this years Oscar for Greatest Potential Movie;

I would like to bring to your attention, I have been writing a fictional serial for some wonderful people. Every month I would send in a little story and they would read it, recommend a few edits, and we would work together to make it presentable. It was a lot of fun.

When they agreed to let me write the story they had no idea how hard it is for me to end something. I had no idea. But, I should have. Looking back at all the threads I've started here, only to leave them to die on the vine. It should have been a warning.

The motor for our time machine.

One day, they emailed me and asked how I was going to finish the story. 

Finish, heck, I'm just getting started, I thought. But, after more than a year it was time to bring that particular line of foolishness to a close. 

It almost killed me. I wrestled with the ending for two months. Two months of searching for a way to say goodbye to a world I had brought to life.* Characters, places, situations that only existed in my goofy imagination. 

Then one day, while driving to work, it hit me, kind of. I had the beginning of the end, and most of the end, and most of the end of the end. So I wrote it sent it off, and started casting about for the final piece. 

On the drive home that night it hit me. And I wrote it, edited it the next morning and sent it off. 

Jeff and Mark, from R and D.

So, for all of you people who think "yeah he can get into some pretty deep crap, but he can never find his way out again." Well, that isn't always true, sometimes, with an effort that is almost herculean in its self destructiveness I can.

Plus, it has cemented my desire to finish a novel, good or bad, finished, wrapped up and put behind me. At least until Hollywood comes calling. Man that will be so cool. I hope Hollywood has my phone number.

*Not really, it is where the seeds of my novel sprouted and grew. With new characters, more places, and animated wall paintings that help the protagonist through life (I'm not sure about the wall paintings, I love the idea, am crazy about the idea but am having real trouble with the execution).

It was a new day, but it always ends up the same, doesn't it?

Recently, in a gesture of good will, and a selfless act of civic responsibility we, here at the Midwest Office of Life Explained (MOLE) donated a Technologically Advanced, Completely autOnomous traffic control System (TACOS). It was a miracle of design and programming.

Scanning the license plate of passing cars and accessing the private data from the BMV TACOS would estimate the probable destination of the vehicle and compare that with expected traffic patterns and projected use, TACOS would send a signal to the cars radio and alert the driver of the optimal route.

Here is the true genius of the system. Depending on the make, model and accessories it might even be able to access the cars diagnostic systems and tell a person whether or not they should have that thing on their neck looked at, it might not just be a wart after all.

But, the real benefit was we could implement the Life Explained Authorization Command Hold (LEACH) which would clear traffic, not overtly, but enough, to get us to work smoothly, and without delay. With a quick, easy preprogrammed  routine it would empty the drive through at Bob's House of Donuts and Breakfast Burritos. So maybe it was not completely philanthropic, but it helped everybody.

For a while. As so often happens, when a company tries to do the right thing, improve the daily drudgery, and promote a healthier life, things went a little sour.

TACOS took over the acquisitions and maintenance computers. Using the cities good credit, and close ties with a military contractor, whose name is being withheld (it wasn't us, though*), The system ordered dozens of weapons grade lasers. It had them installed on the lights used to illuminate the freeway, and on stop lights, and traffic cameras all over the city.

At first it just used the weapons to ensure obedience to driving directions. Soon, though, speeders would be evaporated, crossing against the light, zap, ashes, j walkers were disintegrated. People with expired plates were reduced to rubble. You don't even want to know what happened to DUI suspects.

Soon, TACOS had a fleet of drones, armed with cameras, flying around the city (who knows where they came from, but it wasn't us*).  Watching everybody's every move. The corpses of shoplifters, trespassers, and vagrants lined the streets. Thinking about not voting, think again.

So, we are cowering here, in the custodians closet, enough food and water to last for two weeks, enough pine scented disinfectant to last for all eternity. Really, does anybody ever use any of this stuff? There are cases and cases just stacked up in here, and yet nothing ever smells like pine, what sense does that make?  But, that isn't really important right now.

*We don't think it was us, anyway.

A Friday Commute, With Emphasis

Traffic was heavy on my way home from work tonight. I left work a little late, that is always trouble. And there was a very light rain, and that really bogs things down. But, it is Friday, and life has to try pretty hard to ruin the jubilation a weekend brings.

Shuffle was working in harmony with the traffic, keeping perfect time with the ebb and flow of the commute. We were cruising.

Behind me was a Suzuki XL7, silver, with a personalized plate, "GRANMA1" Two older women were chatting amiably, casually in the front seat, and it looked like there were a couple more elderly ladies behind them. Everything was slow, but moving, a live version of Maggie's Farm was playing, and it was great.

Soon, though, the gentle, kindly ladies in the car behind me were starting to get a little anxious. They were swerving into the median to see if things were starting to break up ahead, but it was a solid, slow moving parade as far as could be seen.

When I looked in my rear view mirror I could see them passing wine, drinking right from the bottle, and lighting cigarettes using a can of sterno. The passenger opened a 16 ounce can of beer. She rolled down her window, and flipped the bird to the truck driver stuck beside them.

From their aggressive maneuvers (falling back and then speeding to catch up, almost hitting my car)
it was obvious they were becoming impatient. When the COTA bus cruised past in the median it was more than they could bear.

Jamming their car into the shoulder right behind the bus the driver stomped onto the accelerator and slammed into the bumper. The passenger threw an empty quart beer bottle at the back of the bus.

Central Ohio bus drivers are trained professionals and know how to deal with threats. From the drivers window a mostly empty bourbon bottle described a perfect arc over the top of the bus, and landed almost exactly in the center of the Suzuki's windshield. It was a terrible sound as the windshield cracked and split.

A tremendous kick from the passenger drove the ruined windscreen out of the car and onto the side of the road. It made it easier to open fire on the defiant bus.

In fear for their lives the passengers on the bus returned fire, It was hard to say which was worse the noise, the stench, or the potential traffic jam that could result from this exchange, delaying the commute for hours.

As they drove out of sight, still in the median, still moving much faster than the rest of us, I saw the passenger and both "ladies" from the back seat scrambling out the hole where the front window used to be, jumping on the bus, and throwing tear gas grenades into the holes the gunfire had opened.

Curse the luck, they saved the day, but ruined my Monday morning.

Today we are going to find a solution. First, of course, we need to define the problem. This is liable to require some careful analysis. Which will only come through thoughtful, cautious, deliberate contemplation of the current situation. And it is early, and the day is sunny, and bright, and wonderful, and the coffee is delicious, and we decided that sounded too difficult.

So, we are going to tell you about what happened yesterday. It was getting late in the afternoon, not quite time to leave, but not really enough time to start anything new, either. Sometimes that happens as early as Thursday, ("well, the weekend is coming, in 37 hours, I can't really answer my emails.") so I walked around a little bit.

It isn't this building, but it is similar,
 since it is "top secret" we will pretend.

We are located downtown in an old, tall, thin, but very long building, made of mostly red bricks, however it was built in several stages so the masonry work changes from front to back, three times. In a way, it seems kind of foolish, somebody built a four story building, and then added another four story building to the front of it, and then did it again. But, it does make for an interesting affect. Not that this has much to do with my story.

Anyway, we are not far from the convention center (which was designed and built to look like it was constructed at different times, from different materials, which makes for an odd appearance, but that is not important, sorry). Anyway, working that close to the convention center can provide some odd sights depending on who is using the facility.

So last night when I was cruising around avoiding responsibility, I looked out the window and saw a guy dressed up as Thor, the god of thunder. Kind of, he had a long red cape, and a Thor like hammer (Mjolnir, is the proper name) on his belt. At first I thought it wasn't Thor, because he was very thin, and wore jean shorts and a tank top.

But, I went to tell my co-worker, Bil, about it, and he said he saw Deadpool riding a skateboard when he went to lunch. He thought it was not really Deadpool because he only had the mask, not the whole uniform, if that is the proper term for the clothing of a cartoon hero, or villain, I'm not sure in which category Deadpool falls.

But, this did not strike either of us as all that strange, being so close to the convention center, with the weekend coming.

But, as I was driving home the Department of Transportation had shut down the freeway going into downtown. Which is odd, right before rush hour, and the weekend. And then I thought, what if that was Deadpool (who may be a bad guy) and Thor (who is a good guy) and they had one of the epic, building destroying, street closing, mess making, commute ruining battles, portrayed so well on the magic box. What then. It will take me forever to get to work Monday, dammit. I am afraid to turn on the TV.

Let me know if you have heard anything.

A desperate plea for help.

Today we are going to discuss commuting, in general, and early morning commuting, before rush hour, in particular, 6:00 AM to 6:30 AM commuting on a three lane freeway in Central Ohio, specifically.  This commute should be painless, for the most part.  There are three lanes, and these are divided by the speed at which the driver feels comfortable.

In the right hand lane are two types of driver.  Right Lane Driver type #1 - those who enjoy the slow life, don't mind slowing, or hurrying to allow vehicles entering from the ramp, and have plenty of time to get to work.   These drivers never have high blood pressure, and eat a lot of salads.  Right Lane Driver Type #2 - those who are about to exit.

The middle lane is for drivers who have audio books and like to spend a little time relaxing with their favorite author before beginning their day.  It would be so inconvenient to have to adjust your speed at every ramp for merging traffic, and the middle lane is slow enough to provide plenty of time to enjoy almost a whole chapter.  If traffic is heavy it might be a chapter and a half.  Their day begins with a latte, a biscotti, sensible loafers, and something fashionable, and comfortable.  Occasionally, someone will provide a short irritant into their drive by slamming across all three lanes to exit, or reach the left hand lane, but their commute is a literary picnic, and they are happy about that.

"Hey, move it, I am barely staying ahead of the ambulance!"

In the left hand lane are people trying to get off the freeway, out of their car, and into what passes for life these days.  It is for people who hate driving, and just want to get it over with quickly.  They curse at people who force the use of brakes, "#*#@*!)*( you, can't you seem I am trying to get somewhere."  A smile crosses their face as the shift lever goes into park, and they are done with the potentially lethal practice of hurtling down the highway, hoping nobody crashes into them.

It is imperative that the left lane be respected, these are people on the edge, and this traffic should go approximately 7 to 12 miles an hour faster than the middle lane.  Differences in speed are calculated using a complex formula (that is way to difficult to explain in one blog post) considering such variables as weather, light conditions, congestion, and day of the week (Mondays are faster than Wednesdays, for example).  But, traffic flow permitting the left lane drivers should always be able to pass the middle lane driver in a manner that allows a feeling of superiority, and a smug satisfaction.  Is that asking too much?

It is a good idea to know what type of driver you are, and get in your lane, and stay there.  We, here at Life Explained are developing a test, and will post it soon.  You can thank us later.

The Weekend, What Life is About.

At long last it is Friday.  Friday,a gift from the heavens, a reward for having survived the week, and we did, but it was not always easy, there were a few bumps along the way, no week worth living through will allow unfettered passage.

Monday, there was snow, it had piled up, over the weekend, and it was a white curse, deep, imposing and dreadful.  Sunday, I dug out the driveway, and the sidewalk.  It was not easy, and it gave me an elevated sense self worth.  There was so much snow many of our neighbors had just left it, waiting for the inevitable central Ohio rain to come and wash it all away (coming tomorrow, coincidentally).  Monday, while I was at work the snow plow came through our neighborhood, and while clearing the streets by pushing the snow to the side of the road, managed to bury the entrance to our driveway under a cold, compressed barrier of snow.   Turning it dark, and dingy, and compacted into a substance a little like concrete, immovable, unbreakable, and, awful.  It is still there, taking its toll on our suspension, tires, and patience.

To combat snow the city sends plows to push the snow out of the way, and dump "road salt" all over the freeways, and thank goodness for that, there are enough videos showing cars spinning out of control and slamming into things already.  Nobody wants their 15 minutes of fame to come in an expensive, terrifying ballet of ice-inspired mechanical failure.  It is probably not, technically, salt, it is probably some chemical mixture, but whatever it is after a short time it covers almost everything, and everywhere you go everything you see looks ashen, grey and dead.  It's not bad enough winter is slowly strangling your will to live, but the entire city starts to look like a scene from a post apocalyptic future.  A future where some seemingly benign creation of man somehow went haywire and blocked all of the suns rays that provide color, and warmth, and life.  Personally I am betting on those cursed E-Cigarette things that are popping up all over.  All that "vapor" (vapor, yeah, right) can't be good.

Tuesday and, Wednesday brought cold, mind numbing cold that settles into your bones and stays until almost July.  In the past this was a "cold snap," or a "blast of winter" in some extreme cases it was an "arctic front," moving through.  But, with the advent of twenty four hour news, sports, and weather networks all of those sound so skimpy, so finite.  Now, it is a "Polar Vortex!"  There is a phrase that will make you zip up your jacket a little higher, pull down your stocking cap a little lower, and send local meteorologists rushing for the microphone, and a gimmick.  "It is so cold, Marybeth Anne, we are going to do the weather forecast outside tonight."  Wow, it must be cold!  I said to my wife just the other night, "look at that poor local meteorologist toiling outside in the cold, just like a sanitation engineer, or a first responder, what a brave soul."

But, now we have arrived safely at our destination, Friday, the gateway to the weekend, freedom from the alarm clock, freedom from a hurried good bye, and a mad dash to the car, freedom from the oppressive commute, and the peril involved in driving 70 miles an hour on a road filled with people who probably didn't get enough sleep, and are running a few minutes late, and are bound and determined to make up for lost time by passing everybody on the freeway, even if that requires the use of the shoulder or median, while they finish their breakfast, god, I hope it isn't pancakes today.

But, soon I will be home, safe and sound, enjoying dinner, and a recording of the Cornhuskers beating the Hoosiers in basketball,  Thank you, Coach Miles!  There is something refreshing about that guy, kind of like the weekend.

The Hazards of the Winter Commute.

Today's commute was particularly challenging.  There was, of course, the normal winter problems, little snarls, that add time and a bit of complication to the daily drive, icy ramps, and bridges, and slow drivers who should have stayed home (if you can't handle a little snow take the bus, right?) and suicidal maniacs who drive as if they are being pursued by demons from the deepest, blackest pits, frozen icy patches be damned.  

Compounding these normal traffic hurdles were the ice bergs forming around sound some of the slower moving vehicles, and the roaming, marauding polar bears, who obviously mistook the off black Honda Civic in front of me for a seal, and were ripping the car to pieces trying to get at the tasty morsels, nestled screaming and wailing, inside.  You know, stopping to help would have been a good idea, but after leaving the house kind of late, and the slow down on the ramp it was touch and go about getting to work on time.

You know, you really can't blame the polar bears, (one of whom distinctly said, "you know, they taste a lot like chicken.") bears hunt and eat, it's called survival.  However, those Eskimos could find a much better place than the freeway to build their igloos!  All of those whale remains are very slick on the Fifth Ave. Curve, it is a hazard, and someone should petition city council, someone who isn't so late for work, of course.

Well, I am almost at work, so stay warm, stay dry, and watch out for the wolves they are moving south along the freeway, following the caribou, it is really slowing down traffic.  A word to the wise, don't get out of the car to snap a few photos, ravenous, hunting wolf packs are not the best subjects for Instagram, and your loved ones will have trouble collecting your life insurance if you've been devoured.

Another treacherous commute, sort of.

Last night the weather people on TV predicted a "wintry mix of rain, sleet and snow" for this morning.  In this part of the country that is meteorologist crack cocaine.  You can feel the excitement build as they talk about the potential rain, mixing with the potential snow, and falling on our city.  Excitement can overcome even a seasoned television weather person, causing them to swoon, and the sports guy will have to rush over and fan them with the sports page from the local paper he was using to write his report.  But, as excited as they find the possibilities it can make my morning drive less enjoyable.

Since, a decent "wintry mix" can throw traffic into chaos the safe bet was to wake early, check the morning traffic report, and adjust my schedule accordingly.  The first thing we saw was the weather.

Al, the morning weatherperson said it was raining, and showed, with the help of a full screen radar image, a large swath of rain clouds passing over the area, with some snow showers mixed in towards the end.  Clouds producing snow stand out because of color variation, and there was a small batch of lightly colored clouds following closely on the heels of the wide, traveling amoeba looking bunch of rain clouds.  But, it was enough, and Al was thrilled.  After his breathless presentation, he passed the screen time baton to Mona the traffic reporter.

"With all of the rain we have had over the last several hours traffic is really slow, here are images from around the metropolitan area."  Four images, almost identical from the cloudy, rain drop smeared lenses, covered the screen and she described, in detail, what each camera was showing.  "There are no accidents to report, yet," you could almost sense the sorrow in her voice, and she slumped a little, "but, you know with wet, hazardous roads like this it is only a matter of time.  And I will bring it to you as soon as it happens."  She perked up a little there, and passed the all important air time to Bob, the anchorman.



"We have a camera crew and Ken, the reporter, loaded and ready to roll, as soon as there is an accident," Bob said, a little breathless, and the television screen showed Ken, the reporter, and a camera crew waiting in a van, in the rain, ready to roll.

Bob talked about the coming election, and the levees on the ballot, moving quickly to results of the online poll conducted by the station, an overnight robbery, and a local dog named Fritz who climbed a tree to rescue his friend, a cat named Hans, which was kind of cool.

"And, back to the Storm Center, and Al.  Hey, Al, how about giving this rain the boot and gettin' us some sunshine?"  He joked.

Al talked about the rain, predicting it would be out of the area sometime in the morning and the sun would appear in the afternoon, "How about that, Bob?  Now on to Mona, at the Traffic Control Console."

Mona was trying hard to keep a positive demeanor, but her voice, quavering, belied her concern.  "Nothing to report so far, but, with wet, awful roads like this it is only a matter of minutes, and we are ready to bring you the news.  Right, Ken?"

Flash to Ken, standing in the rain, beside the van, right outside the station, "that's right, Mona.  We are just waiting to bring you the film from the first accident of the day."

Mona was back on the screen, promising to bring us reports of the first accident, which, she assured was coming quickly.

Another round of news and weather and we were back to Mona, who was beginning to show signs of desperation.  She was wringing her hands, and sweat was beginning to streak her makeup.

"Look, the roads are terrible, and we are going to have an accident, soon.  Why wait?  The first person to run their car into a pole gets this $10.00 gift card to "Bill's House of Good Coffee."  If you involve another car the good people at "Terri's Style Boutique" will throw in a cut and color.  Look, we all drive the same roads, and we all know how irritating it is when some fool cuts you off, like they are more important, their time is more valuable.  Today is the chance to show them.  Ram them hard enough to require a wrecker, and "Ted's Towing" will throw in dinner for two at "The Powder House Grill."  We are going to throw open the phone lines, and take bids, if you are interested in a morning crash, but don't like the gifts you see here, call in and make a request, we will do our best to make it happen.  No reasonable offer will be refused.  What other station can make that claim?"

I was going to hold out for a new TV, but duty called, I take my job seriously.  I never heard who won the lottery, but, I am sure it was a great prize, and a grand accident, and Ken did a superb job reporting.

Monday, again, survive the best you can.

Ah, Monday, my old nemesis, here you are again.  It has been what, about 7 days since our last encounter.  Don't forget what happened then.

You came in slow, stealthily, acting almost as though we were friends.  The song on the alarm clock radio was "What I Like About You," by The Romantics, the coffee was particularly delicious, the sun was smiling brightly at the cool, comfortable temperature, and the whole thing seemed like a Friday.

Soon, though, you showed your true nature, the nasty, despicable side.  Somehow, even though my coffee was on the other side of the counter from where I was making lunch, a Spicy, Tabasco, Fire, Inferno, Devil's brand Potato chip ended up in what had been one of the finest hot drinks of my long, drink filled life.  Dang It!!!!

Oh, well, one cup down there are ten more in the carafe.

"Watch out for thick patches of fog, all along the drive downtown."  The local Meteorologist said on the Morning News, but he seemed so happy how bad could it be?  "Plus, there are unconfirmed reports of scattered armies of satanic demons hidden in the fog, tearing the flesh from commuters, littering the bones all over the median, ripping up large patches of the road, and using the material to build an altar in what maybe an elaborate attempt to summon the end of the world, and possibly a tornado, or two.  Which could really have a negative impact on the flow of traffic.  For a more elaborate elaboration, let's go to Melissa Smiley, our Traffic Reporter."

"That's right, Bob.  Crosstown traffic is pure hell, today.  Even if you live you will be scarred for life.  I would avoid the whole interior of the city and use alternate routes, maybe take the back roads, to a secluded, wooded location that nobody knows about, and make peace with the Lord.  Or 5th Avenue, to Main, and go South from there.  Updating you on the latest sports news, here is Chip D'Average.  How about that game last night, Chip?"

Dang, and I am out of sick leave.

No choice, but to brave the drive, the fog, the demons, and the tornadoes, making it to work, just as the coffee I spilled on my shirt was turning unbearably cold.  I noticed the front door to the building was missing.

And, over the weekend, someone had broken in and taken all of the printer paper, even the stuff in the printer.  Painted the doors with the scene behind them so they always looked open, causing three broken noses, and a dislocated ring finger.  And, changed everybody's voice mail greeting to "Hello, I am too dumb to answer my phone."

It was a good fight, Monday, and you almost won.  Finally, around midnight I gained the upper hand, sending you running off, like a thief in the night.  Now, you are back, and it is time to lace up the gloves and go a few rounds again.  Take your best shot.  I'm ready.

Another story about my drive to work, when will the madness end!

Today, during the drive to work, a pickup, a large pickup, cut me off, it just oozed into the small opening between me and the car I was trying to stay far enough away from that we could both stop and not collide.  But, as is the case with so many ambitions this one was short lived, because now this pickup was so close to both cars we probably looked like one long vehicle.  On the tail gate of this pickup was a a bumper sticker, it was small, with stylish text and would have been almost impossible to read had it not been for the proximity.
Thank goodness we were that close, though, because  the message rang loud and true.  Watch out for motorcycles, they are much smaller than a car, easily disappearing into a blind spot.  Plus, the very openness that makes them so appealing also leaves the rider vulnerable, and at great risk for personal injury.  I vowed to be so careful, a good citizen of the highway.

Finally, the monstrous pickup pulled into a gas station, looking at the size of the truck and considering the driving habits of the operator, this was probably pretty common.  And the stoplight just ahead turned green, the freeway was the next left, things were looking up, when this lime green Volkswagen pulled out in front of me, and went slow enough the light changed back to red.  This did offer an opportunity to read the bumper sticker.

It was perfectly logical, bicyclists have rights as well.  Bicycles are completely environmentally friendly, and heart healthy.  It is only smart to take their rights into consideration while driving.  "Share the Road" was going to become my new mantra, learn it. live it, love it.  Everyday, I would keep my eyes open for all of my two wheeled road companions.  A happy relationship, founded on mutual respect and inspired by bumper stickers.

Finally, on the freeway, not many bicycles to worry about out here, but keeping a weather eye for motor cycles, it was my duty.  Also, trying to avoid collisions with cars and trucks as well, it seems wise, maybe I should make a bumper sticker about that.  (Note to self, look into artwork for "avoid all accidents" and research production costs, and potential profit)  My exit is just ahead, when a Prius eases into the lane ahead of me, and I am forced to slow way down, this close to my destination, no point in crashing now.  But, I do get a good look at the bumper sticker.

How true, they are everywhere, and it is our responsibility to not run over them.  They are scurrying across streets, exposed to the elements, while we ride imperiously immune in cars, air conditioners or heaters keeping us comfortable, rain and snow held at bay.  We are like gods, and it is our duty to be beneficent, not vengeful, kind and patient, not mean and spiteful.  I am a changed man, this is like an epiphany, a rebirth.  I will watch for all of God's children.

At the next light, I notice a young man, sporting a mohawk, a lot of facial piercings and ill fitting clothes, his t-shirt says, "skate boarders have rights, too," amen brother!  While driving I see a lot of skate boarders in the streets , they have rights.  And joggers, and walkers pushing baby strollers, in the street deserve some respect as well.  They shouldn't be limited to the artificial constraints of the side walk, the street is for everyone.

On the way home a sign warns, "deer crossing" I'll be careful, another sign, a short distance away, says, "Slow down, children playing."  Ok, good advice. "Park Entrance"  "School Zone" "Baby on Board" all of these are cautionary tales, driving is a terrible, terrifying, awful burden.   And rest assured,  Life Explained Nation, I will watch for every one, you are in safe hands now.  But, if you want to post a new bumper sticker to remind me that is not a bad idea, I can't think of everything.

A nice day for a drive.

It was a great drive to work this morning.  It is Friday (which improves everything) and Billy Preston and I were asking the musical question "will it go round in circles, will it fly high like a bird up in the sky?" still unanswered, but with a wonderfully upbeat sound who cares.  The roads were still wet from the overnight thunderstorms, (storms that had washed the the work week almost completely away) but the sky was brightening and the horizon was smiling and gave commuters a little wink, even the heavens were feeling good.  It was going to be a nice day.

Merging from one freeway to the next and wanting to get over into the left most lane, (the fast lane) a quick, cursory glance in the drivers side mirror revealed a car fast approaching.  It is Friday, and nobody wants to be rude on such a wonderful day, so I waited to let it pass.  But, it was two cars, a black Honda and a Silver Hyundai.  And they were in a hurry, and were waiting on no one.

Pulling in behind them, and listening to Billy Preston sing about having a song that

"ain't got no melody," he is "gonna sing it to his friends.""  I couldn't help but wonder what they were listening to, maybe "click click boom," by Saliva.  Something aggressive and filled with rage.

The Black Honda made a tragic error, letting the Silver Hyundai slip to the right and go around him. Maybe the driver was looking for "Guerrilla Radio" by Rage Against the Machine on his MP3 player. Or they were an older person who needed something like "Danger Zone," by Kenny Loggins.  Perhaps it was just a moment of lucid, reasonable thought.  Probably not.

That was not going to happen to the driver of the black Honda, don't be foolish.  The car swerved quickly to the right, to pass the offensive Silver Hyundai.  Meanwhile, Billy Preston was telling me about his dance,

"ain't got no steps, no, gonna let the music move me 'round." Sadly, there was a car too close to the front of the Hyundai and the only choice the Black Honda had was to pull back in behind, stuck in 2nd place, you know it was murderously painful, too.  I imagined the grip tightening on the wheel as the driver cursed the fates, and the lousy music on local radio.

They both flew past the blocking car, and found themselves stuck in their respective positions, the traffic was getting too heavy.  Desperately trying to out maneuver each other, weaving in and out of traffic, horns honking, tires squealing.  It was going to be something to see, who would get downtown first, I wish I had put money on the Hyundai.

Unfortunately, a large, seriously large, pickup (with a "Love to Scrapbook" bumper sticker and an artificial flowered wreath attached to the tailgate pulled between me and the battling commuters, and I would never know who won the race downtown.  But there was something so peaceful in the way the wreath rocked back and forth as the pickup swayed, almost tipping over, too large, and unstable for that kind of high speed, abrupt lane change.

When I pulled up to the stoplight at the bottom of the exit, (just as Billy Preston sang about his story with no moral, and the bad guy winning every once in a while) the Hyundai and the Honda were sitting side by side at the red light.  Engines revving, staring intently at the light, waiting for the green, hoping to get a jump, both hands clutching the steering wheel as though they hated it, studiously not making eye contact.  Women can be so stubborn.

Anyway, thank you, racing, raging commuters , large pick up drivers, the smiling, winking heavens and especially you, Billy Preston, you all helped make my ride to work special.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghj5V5cUo1s

Happy Friday, all.

Technology Explained

It has been several weeks since technology landed here and life was altered by the addition of an iPhone.  It has been a whirlwind of activity.  Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, all waiting.  It was a fresh beginning.  Smart phones are a blessing, sent from the heavens to reward us for living so long with a phone that was tethered to a wall.  Today we will discuss the time saving, multi-tasking abilities of the iPhone.

Everyday you see countless people driving, robot like, both hands on the wheel, both eyes on the road, machines, scanning the traffic ahead and judiciously using the mirrors to watch behind.  Cautiously looking for potential problems.  Think of all that down time, wasted.  Fools!

Smart phone users, on the other hand, are answering emails, sending text messages, scheduling appointments.  Using all of that wasted time driving to get things done.

Just this morning, on the way to work, I surfed the net for a recipe for dinner tonight (found one using cheese and ground beef patties, might be good), updated my Facebook status, "driving to work, 75 mph, passing doofus in Festiva, flipped him off."  And I liked it, too.  Took a few pictures and posted them to Instagram, titled, "Nice day for a drive, enjoying the scenery"  Answered an email from some guy that has a time share plan that will make me rich.  "Not interested, still waiting on a big fat check from Nigeria" (I was tempted, but how much money can one person use?).  All while rocking and rolling to the Jim Carroll Band performing "People Who Died."

Plus, somehow, during the spasm of productivity that my commute has become with the addition of "SMART" phone technology, I managed to top my high score on "Angry Birds, On the Road, Again"

Not only that, but I am typing and posting this right on the 5th Avenue curve, the maelstrom that has taken so many careless souls over the years.  In case my wife reads this, that was just a joke, I am not really writing this while driving our car, at 75 miles an hour, on the 5th Avenue curve.  It was just a joke.

Anyway, I am here, time to go make coffee.  Have a nice day, and stay connected, it is what separates us from the animals.  Please tune in next week when we cover minor home surgery thanks to YouTube tutorials, in a post titled "Thanks to the iPhone, you don't need to be a physician to heal thyself!"  Or, "Go ahead and try this at home."

Morning commutes can be hectic.

Today's drive was a little hectic.  At 6:15 traffic is, generally speaking, pretty light, normally, really, just smooth sailing, mostly.  Not today.

It started right on the first freeway ramp.  In front of my car was a Chevy Silverado, bright red, a big gas guzzling pickup, you could tell it never hauled anything more freight worthy than groceries, a real pretty boy thing,  Poking along, screwing up the whole works.  He merged to the left, perfect time to pass him.  Accelerating until I was pulling ahead a little Mr. Sissy man pickup driver saw I was going around him and decided that was not the best way to start his day, and sped up.  Driving defensively, and not wanting to cause any accidents, I put my foot to the floor, and passed him doing 85 miles per hour (Miles are like kilometers, only longer, or not as long, I don't remember, and an hour is like a minute times 60)

It was a great feeling watching the schmuck sobbing in my rear view mirror, until a car flew past on the left and took the lead, then one on the right. nearly causing an accident, lunatics anyway.  Whipping into the middle lane I drafted (drafting is a racing term and it means, driving right behind someone so close in order to create, to gather, to generate, never mind what it means, it isn't important) behind a Honda Odyssey going 120 mph.  I was so close I managed to catch the last few minutes of Scooby Doo on the DVD screen.  Did you know the Creeper was really the butler?

I looked out the drivers side window and who was there?  That's right, Jeff Gordon in the number three car.  He flipped me the bird and went to pass the minivan.  I double clutched and shifted into a lower gear, which was hard, since I don't have any idea what that means and my car has an automatic transmission.  Swerving over I managed, barely to clip his rear bumper and send him careening into the ambulance, whose driver was using the lights and sirens in a foolish attempt to get to ahead of me.

Only two cars left to pass and the lead would be mine, and one of them was a school bus.  Victory is going to be so sweet.  But, as the school bus and I were jockeying for position a state patrolman cruised by and I decided he should probably have the honor.  Brave public servant that he is.