Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Close encounter

This morning I left for work a little later than normal, and almost met my demise because of it. I like to leave while it's still dark in order to avoid all the traffic and lunatics on the highways, but I'm seeing now that it doesn't matter.

Waiting to turn left out of my subdivision onto a quiet, no-name country road that used to have significant importance during the Civil War, I have to nudge out into the half mile of standing traffic because drivers these days have no concept of the law in regards to not blocking an intersection. They can see you there with your blinker on, and it's not like they can go anywhere, but they still pull forward and block you in. Honk your horn and these people will slowly turn their head toward you and stare with an empty stare, for a moment, and then say HMM-hm-hm-mmmah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah! Fucking cattle.

If I turn right, I would be heading into the flow of cattle toward the main highway, which leads to Interstate 95 - the aorta of the East Coast. The hoofed creatures are all mostly heading North to DC. I almost always turn left to take the backroads because I would rather take the scenic route, which also serves to preserve life and limb, as I do not see myself dying on the highway to the hood of a former out of state, latte drinking metrosexual.

Being sober, alert, and trying to drive as safe as possible, I thought the way was clear so I crossed traffic and pulled into the opposite lane, only to almost get smashed by a little sportscar. The driver of that car skidded into the edge of the road to avoid hitting my dumb ass, sending gravel all over the roadway. His car being so low, it couldn't be seen above the line of stopped cars heading East. Being grey in color the car was perfectly camouflaged with the wet roadway, there was no way I could have seen him. I could have waited for an hour for traffic to go away, or leave an hour earlier like I used to to avoid this nonsense to begin with. Either way, I wish every driver on the road in Virginia was as skilled as this driver, because I was certain I was going to get hit. It would have been my fault. If you come across this blog, skilled driver, I do apologize.

As much as I bitch about all the non-skilled drivers that I encounter day by day, I'm admitting to myself that it's really due to there being way too many cars and people in an area that can't possibly support the excess traffic. It's simply too much. I get run off the road about once a month like the guy I mentioned above, and have several close calls a week. I work in an adjacent county, and when I was young the drive took me 20 minutes to make from driveway to parking lot. Now it takes me an hour, so I spend two hours of my life a day sitting in traffic. I know I should be ashamed, but it's not unusual to see me stopped at a stoplight in an ocean of Volvos, shaking my fist at all the bahleat-bahleat-bahleating idiots while screaming a nonstop chain of obscenities that would make R. Lee Ermey envious. Where the hell did all of you come from? Do you morons have any idea about how sad it makes me to be stuck in a gigantic intersection in front of a stripmall identical to the one a half a mile before it, reminiscing about how I used to hunt there with my friends in decades past? Then you people moved here in droves so that you could be two hours from DC, and it pisses me off.

I don't want to raise my children here amongst this mess, so I have been devoting my energy towards getting away from it. Not too far because my family and friends are all here, but I would like to get away from the traffic even though it will take me several years. I'm breaking character bringing a problem without voicing a solution, but I had to let it out. Thanks for reading my rant.
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