The Two Hundred and Ninety-Ninth Post: The One Where I Came Perilously Close to Being Social and Suicidal in the Span of Three Days… (part two)

Hello, all — I’m just gong to pick up from where I left off with me getting everything out of the Z: drive (still can’t find the pictures or the Art Bell Files on the Y: drive, but that’s not important) and getting out to the local copier place to get everything printed, stapled and shiny for Saturday.  At that point, I was trying to consider my options as far as traffic.

Where I live is not really all that convenient for travel.  I am smack dab in the middle of two Interstate Highways.  At the copiers, I was just two blocks away from I-65.  Getting on it would be a straight shot (somewhat) down to work, but that particular highway was alway congested like you wouldn’t believe.  The route I take to work normally is a little twisty and roundabout, but the streets are relatively open for me (with the exception the on again / off again merger of I-64 and I-65. When it gets choked up…make no plans).  The downside for Friday as I’m getting everything printed and stapled is that I’m quite a distance away from the usual route to work.  Also keep in mind that I still haven’t had anything for lunch, so my judgement is a little wobbly.

I figure that I can go on ahead and take my normal route to work, since I pass by a couple of gas stations, it’ll be no problem to get something quick to eat.  I pay for the papers and head out to the car.  I’ve got everything I need for work (cell phone, iPad and dinner).  Paying for everything, I head out the door.  Since I thought I was going to have more time in the afternoon than I would in the morning, I’ve already showered and shaved (I usually  wait until an hour before I need to leave).  I hop in the car and drive for the Interstate.  Over the radio, I hear that there is a very bad tie-up on I-65 on one of the bridges.  I’m heading in a different direction, and I am doing so as quickly as I can.

I get through the shopping area and zip by the gas stations.  It doesn’t hit me that I need to get something to eat until I make the turn onto the Interstate.  Now it’s too late to turn around, so I’ll just have to get to work as quick as I can and get something there.

Let me quickly explain how the typical driver in Kentucky drives:

  • It’s not a speed limit, but a speed guideline.
  • Right-of-way is determined by the mass of the vehicle you drive, or how willing you are to risk life and limb to make that merge.
  • Looking before crossing lanes is considered unsporting.

I can get an idea as to whether or not I’m going to be badly late by what I’m driving by before 5:30 pm.  If I pass the train tracks by the finger nail polish plant (they don’t make finger nail polish, but that’s what the place smells like) around 5:30, then I’m going to be there on time.  If I’m passing the airport, then I’m going to cut it close.  It’s 5:35 and I am now just crossing the bridge.  Yeah.  I’m gonna be late.

The best thing I can do right now is goose my engine to move up to eighty miles an hour and stay in the right lane.  However, in a moment inspired by low blood sugar, desperation and not paying attention, I found myself drifting towards the middle of the road.  Missing an exit would put me even later.  I had to cross two lanes of traffic very soon.  The only thing that’s keeping me from making the crossover is a slow truck dragging a mowing tractor.  I can’t speed up to go around him, because every time I try to move forward to get around the car on my right, he slows down.  So, I do what I have to do.

I slow down, peer over my shoulder quickly, goose the engine and cross the two lanes of traffic going eighty-five in a fifty-five…ish sort of zone.  To my amazement, when I go over the painted off section and cut in front of a car with only a half-car length to spart — I don’t kill everyone involved.  I press down on the gas some more to give the guy behind me some more room.  As I creep into the low nineties, I see the “check engine” light come on.  Not a little ‘dude, you might want to get me checked’.  It was the ‘Scotty screaming at me that she cannae take the strain, Captain as my hair’s on fire’ red light.  I keep looking from the light, to the speedometer which I am trying to ease back down to sub-light to the traffic ahead.  By some miracle, the engine stays in the car and the usual choke point here is flowing free.  Slowing down, I creep into the exit lane.  Thanks to my daring heroics, I think I’m going to be merely two minutes late.

Wow — it’s beginning to look like that the telling of the weekend is going to be longer than the weekend itself.  I will continue on with tomorrow.  I’m also going to talk about my upcoming sci-fi project which I am calling “The Mind of Man”.  I’m just going to try to hash out somethings online here.  Hopefully it won’t be too burdensome.

Thanks for reading, and I hope to see y’all tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Seething Apathy

One thought on “The Two Hundred and Ninety-Ninth Post: The One Where I Came Perilously Close to Being Social and Suicidal in the Span of Three Days… (part two)

  1. Pingback: The Two Hundred and Ninety-Ninth Post: The One Where I Came Perilously Close to Being Social and Suicidal in the Span of Three Days… (part three) | Seething Apathy

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