Subject: Re: Manse Diaries: Mall Pall
Date: 03 Aug 1998 00:00:00 GMT
From: jimvan@NOSPAMgate.net (Jim Vandewalker)
Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free, alt.slack, alt.ask.phred
On Sat, 01 Aug 1998 02:32:58 GMT, email@example.com (MegaLiz) wrote:
>Baby Bobo and I had a rare opportunity today. The rest of the
>family was happily occupied with swimming, but we were going to
>shed our poor folk shackles and perform a couple of surgical
>strikes, including one on the mall.
<Mall tale regretfully snipped>
>A Cadillac edged in
>front of us, and since the driver was part of the second most
>dangerous driver demographic--old guys in hats and wrap-around
>sunglasses--I paused for as long as necessary to let him get
>ahead of me.
>I wondered if I'd ever get too old to go to the mall. It could
>get much worse, though. I could get too old to get back OUT.
My route to work is along about a 10-mile stretch of four-lane with some
monster interchange construction going on at one end. Most morning or
afternoons I find myself buzzing along in the same general swarm of cars
and trucks all the way along. Getting off the line at an early light, some
dork in a Firebird will roar past, exhibiting great disgust at the poky
pickup of my little Japmobile, only to be caught up with at the NEXT light.
His 250 horses got him to the redlight TWELVE SECONDS ahead of me. He KEEPS
ON doing this for the whole 10-mile stretch. The fat black woman sings
along with the R&B station all the way. The two Mexicans in the back of
the pick-up sleep undisturbed over the road construction.
This morning the Japmobile wouldn't accelerate AT ALL when I pulled onto
the four-lane and I could see a couple of commuters in a Saturn roaring up
behind me and then exhibiting considerable frustration when they couldn't
roar AROUND me because there was ANOTHER pokeslow in the left lane. Haw.
When THAT obstacle cleared away, they were confronted with a Daihatsu
making a left turn, and were forced to drop out of the swarm.
Their place was taken by an ENORMOUS "Recreational Vehicle." I mean we're
talking CRUISE SHIP here. The thing pulls up beside me and I'm looking up a
sheer side of aluminum like the TITANIC. It's piloted by, sure enough, an
Old Guy in a Hat With Wraparound Sunglasses. He is the reason campgrounds
have big billboards that say, "We have PULL-THRUS." He is steering this
thing with ONE HAND, and holding the other up to shade his face from the
This is not an uncommon sight in my part of the country. Apparently there
is a WHOLE CULTURE, somewhere in the Midwest is my guess, whose SINGLE
AMBITION is to be able to retire and buy a motor home and drive it to
Florida -- and once there to drive FOREVER in the left-hand lane. These
behemoths stay in the left lane for twenty or more miles before they make
their left turns.
Anyway the one beside me this morning had its STEP sticking out the right
side. The driver has a little hatch on the left side over the front wheel
with a footrest hanging down in the wheelwell, but for the passengers --
usually overweight women in shorts with bloated, sausage-like legs --
there's a door on the right side with a two-step stairway so they can hoist
themselves on board. This stairway FOLDS UP when the landbarge is under
weigh. Or anyway it's SUPPOSED to fold up, but this morning, ol' Herb, or
Marvin, or whatever his name is, FORGOT and it's STICKING OUT of the side
of this EXTREMELY WIDE vehicle.
I have great hopes that somewhere up ahead is a LONG STRETCH of
construction with ORANGE CONES placed in the road, down the right side of
the left lane. The sticking-out step is JUST THE RIGHT HEIGHT to mow down
a quarter mile of da-glo traffic cones: BAP BAP BAP BAP BAP BAP BAP BAP BAP
BAP BAP BAP BAP.
But we're going the wrong way. The construction is at the other end. The
landbarge wallows around onto Highway 60, and I can't even see whether or
not it leans over far enough to strike sparks going around the left turn.
But somewhere -- at Lake Wales or Avon Park, or Sebring -- SOMEWHERE,
traffic cones will FLY and ol' Herb will say, "What was THAT?"
Jim the Prophet
Licensed SubGenius Preacher