In case any of you were concerned about my running out of driving-related things to hate…fear not. As long as there are traffic jams and people who insist on ruining my life by constantly making me slow down so they can make turns —– mostly like they’re dragging a 53’ Dorsey Trailer — there will always be moments for me to ponder my disdain for life as I know it.
Just who determines where to position a vehicle’s ignition switch? I’ll tell you my suspicion…a Transformer, that’s who. No one with opposable thumbs and a normally-articulated wrist could have been responsible.
If you’re old enough to require a fiber supplement you probably remember when ignition switches used to be located on the dashboard – most often on the left side. Some of them even had lights. There was only one way to insert the key but yet a bat could see where it went.
For years I’ve pounded the keyboard complaining about people who don’t use turn signals. I’ve even suggested to various municipalities that they use failure to signal laws as a revenue source that would far outperform speeding in terms of being a cash cow.
Every year about this time I wax nostalgic about my upbringing in the great state of Indiana. And why do I go through this exercise? I don’t know. Actually I’m just making this up because I thought it would create a good lead. However, there is a point to this story.
The other day I was driving down one of our major streets and got behind this older car. After a couple of blocks I started giving it a closer look and the first thought that went through my mind was, “Is anybody driving this thing?” I could not see anyone inside the vehicle. I even weaved back and forth to get different angles of approach and STILL couldn’t see anything.
When one lives in places like Michigan, Indiana or Illinois there’s always a high number of accidents involving vehicles running into deer, and vice versa. There’s nothing like plowing into a 400-pound animal at 60 miles per hour on a totally dark highway to eradicate any need for caffeine to keep you awake.
I’ve written before about the transition vehicles have made from the “bygone years” when if you had a vehicle with blackwall tires you were at best considered a bum and made fun of behind your back…and if that didn’t work…directly to your face. Even the poor man’s whitewalls, “porta walls,” were judged a step better than having no white stripe at all.
Maybe it’s because I grew up in Indiana that it takes so little to amuse me, I don’t know. Ever since I was a small child I can remember the encouragement I received from my family when they would individually and collectively inform me that I was not your average idiot.
Maybe it’s just the positioning of the moon that affects the tides but it seems lately there’s an abnormal amount of hit and run incidents. Outside of driving while intoxicated I think there’s no greater travesty on our roads.
Most of the country has had a pretty severe winter (except Miami) and usually about this time several events occur. The first is a joyous one for tire shops who are swamped with business because of damaged or ruined tires caused by bad roads; and state legislators and governors crying crocodile tears over how poor their roads are and how much repairing it’s going to take to update the infrastructure.