That sounds simply enough, doesn’t it? I don’t mean well enough to fool the driving examiner but well enough to keep yourself out of trouble on the road. I’ve been driving since I was fourteen years old and received my first license at sixteen. I’ve held a license is four states and an international license while in the Navy. I’ve also driven in all kinds of weather, some with a pucker factor of nine or better and survived it all. So let it be said I’m an experienced driver; I know how to keep it between the ditches and shiny side up. So when I see drivers today, I have to wonder just how they managed to get a license to get behind the wheel.

I live in a suburb of Denver, Colorado and often have to drive the major freeways to get where I want to go, mainly fishing. I do my damnest to stay off the roads during rush hour, happens twice a day, and definitely off the roads during the holidays when the most important person on the road is going nowhere fast. I’ve also been in my share of accidents, from minor fender benders to one that totaled my truck (the other driver was talking on her phone and rear ended me doing 40 MPH). I’ve seen drivers talking on their phones, sending text messages, eating, drinking, reading, putting on makeup, leaning over the seat to swat a kid, changing the radio station and even changing their clothes, all while driving more than the speed limit. I’ve found it in my best interests to just back off on the gas and let them get ahead of me, far ahead of me.

I have nothing against legal immigrants, those who followed the law in getting here but Colorado has a major problem with the illegal ones. They travel here to work in the fields or in construction and send their money back home. They know they are here unlawfully and so have no reason to obey our laws, they can buy a car and drive. They have no reason to buy car insurance, a state law, or obey the traffic laws. If they cause an accident, they simply walk away and go buy another car (this happens all too often, hence, uninsured driver insurance). I will never understand why the license manual is printed in Spanish when all our traffic signs are printed in English; I believe they should learn our language before getting a license and getting behind the wheel but then our politicians see them as a serious voting block and don’t want to offend them.

Colorado has plenty of winding, challenging mountain roads, more than a few look like a can of worms when viewed from overhead. There is a particular one that goes from Golden to Black Hawk (our version of Las Vegas) and is always crowded, many times with inexperienced drivers. That note is reinforced by the sheer number of accidents that happen on the two-lane, twisting, blind corners road. From Highway 58 and Highway 6 in Golden, it’s only 18 miles to Black Hawk, with a top speed limit of 40 MPH. Not only are there plenty of cars, trucks and SUVs but there are also casino buses, dump trucks and slow movers, making for a challenging, often frustrated drive.  Throw in the constant construction and one can see that speed is not warranted nor wanted.

Not everyone is going up there for the gambling; there is gold panning, kyaking, fishing, sight seeing, the wildlife and rock climbing for those so inclined. All the pull offs are often crowded with cars and trucks constantly pulling on and off the road. The drive calls for constant vigilance and eyes on the road but the drivers insist on scanning the hills, watching Clear Creek rush by and pointing out a Big Horn sheep or deer to their passengers. This is especially true during the winter when an inch of ice can cover the road, making a trip into the creek a distinct possibility. This only reinforces my belief that everyone on the road is an idiot except me. I’ve driven this road many times in all types of weather and I know when to slow down even more, which blind corner to watch for and where the cops park. I also know that just one accident can close the road for hours, in both directions.

I have a few helpful hints for other drivers. 1- don’t rush me, I’m peddling as fast as I can. 2 - if you’re in that much of a rush, pass me and I’ll wave when I later pass you sitting in a ditch or pulled over by a cop. 3 - you are not the only one on the road, it was designed for multiple vehicles so share it. 4 - those caution signs are there for a reason, obey them. It means the curve was meant to be taken at 30 MPH, not 60. 5 - the wildlife was here before the road so give them a brake or have them as a hood ornament. Same with bicycles.

While I’ve mentioned those who prefer two wheels instead of four; you are not the only one on the road. You’re riding a hundred pound bike while I’ve driving a 4,000 pound truck. Who do you think will win if you pull in front of me? Yes, it is now a state law that I give you three feet of space but what if there isn’t that much to give? I will give you as much as I can but I’m not going head to head with that 70,000 pound dump truck just for you. Most importantly, use a little common sense before choosing your route; a two lane, narrow road is not the place to exercise your rights to the road. You are governed by the same traffic laws as I am but use a little common sense in doing so and we’ll both reach our destinations safely.

Teenagers, just because I have gray hair doesn’t mean I’m stupid, it does mean that I’ve been driving longer than you have. I probably tried the same stupid stunts you’re pulling but I learned from my mistakes, as you will if you live long enough. Show a little respect for your elders.

To tell the truth, this has absolutely nothing to do with being happy. Rather, it struck me as rather funny in a weird way.

So I’m driving - at breakneck speed without speeding of course – I’ve been well-trained by what I consider to be more than my fair share of the tickets being handed out by the unnecessarily LARGE number of cops in this neat, trim, safe, tidy, well-behaved Pleasantville of a town. I’m on my way to an interview, and judging by my five-minutes-fast wrist watch, as well as my new-found respect for the law, I figure I’m going to be two minutes – maybe three or four at most - late. O.k. maybe five. I HATE being late.

Driving west on 36, I’ve got most of my attention focused in my peripheral vision, noting that the suburban on my right has lost track of the center line and is uncomfortably close to me.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear but a small, perfectly round, white object, floating ever so gently into my line of vision, and descending, almost in slow motion, towards my windshield. Naturally I wondered if the car next to me had ripped their head out of their a—(ahem) I mean cell phone – long enough to see what I was seeing.

Well, I didn’t have more than two seconds to wonder. The words “gee that almost looks like a golf ball” had no sooner filtered into my brain, when the damn thing shattered the entirety (almost) of my windshield.

“F*cking hell,” I say aloud, as I hightail it to my next chance to take a quick U-ey at the next stop light and haul ass down Frontage Road to see what f*cking imbecile was taking pop shots at the hwy. Well, turns out there was indeed a golf course there. (surprise surprise – doesn’t Minnesota have the highest number of golf courses in the nation – maybe the world – possibly even the entire flipping universe?)

I rip into the lobby thinking “goddamnit I’m going to be late but someone is going to have hell to pay,” contact the manager, escort him outside toward my car, and the damn fool expertly diverted me immediately to an unkempt little row of teenage golfers hitting balls in exactly the opposite direction of the highway. They looked like a slobbed-out chorus line of naive juveniles placed ever so strategically as to avert just such a disturbance as myself. No matter that there is an entire golf course that runs alongside the Frontage Road and the highway, well beyond this docile little row of novice Jr. Golfers.

The manager says in a (might I add) well-rehearsed, too-quick, overly cheerful voice, “well judging by the looks of this, (nodding to the golfers) the mathematical probability that you were hit by a golf ball is impossible.”

WTF?!

I’m like, “Uh, This is a golf course, I was hit by a golf ball, what the HELL does mathematical probability have to do with anything in that equation?” Dipshit.

Anyways…What was funny, was after I was pulling out of the driveway on my way to my interview, I had no sooner turned onto the road, when a damn bird flew straight at my windshield at real breakneck speed, veering off at the last minute, missing my already shattered windshield by not more than a quarter of an inch AT MOST, actually almost flying into my open window in the process. I could hear the brrr of it’s wings. Thank God my windshield had already shattered – the shatter marks were probably the only things that saved that bird’s life.

Now you see, if I had been speeding - even just a little - I’d have avoided that whole mess altogether.

Anyways, the good news is, I was only 8 minutes late for my interview, and my insurance will cover the windshield. The weird thing is, that’s the third (and fourth – counting the near-hit of the bird) object to hit my windshield in the last month. The bizarre thing is, when the first thing (a sizeable rock) hit my windshield a month ago, the first thought that popped into my mind was, “I’m going to lose my job.”

Am I psychic …or paranoid? I don’t know, but just in case, I think I might consider wearing a helmet next time I embark on any mission having anything to do with the idea of work, or getting a job.

…Or maybe I should start speeding again.

Okay Warcorpse here with something that’s almost killed him and many of you on the road. I was in McDonald’s yesterday. Yes once in a while I eat there, I was to hungry to wait until I got home. Anyway so I’m standing in line and ahead of me is an elderly couple taking FOREVER ordering. Which I don’t really get because McD’s menu hasn’t really changed in the last 25 years and everything still tastes the same. So after so many years of life you’d pretty much know what you want right off the bat, I do. But what the hell I suppose after so many years you get the right to take as long as you want in line. So I patiently waited and got to the register and ordered my food to go. While I’m walking out I almost get run over by a grandma in of course a Buick because she’s not feeling the need to look behind her as she backs out.

I thought as you get older, wiser you get better at the things you do everyday. That’s the attitude that half of the old people have. Then they pull out with out looking, run red lights, cut across the parking lot at a high rate of speed. Go either 5 or 500mph on the highway. Do U-turns in the middle of the street, how are any of theses considered safe driving practices from the wisest members of society.

Then most states put restriction after restriction on teen drivers and their justification is that “they don’t have enough experience”. Yet the ones with the most experience are just as bad. I’d venture to say the number of safe teen drivers to elderly drivers is about the same. Would it really be so bad for some elderly people to re-take the drivers test at lets say 80 to see if they still got what it takes to operate a car safely. And in some cases put them on a restricted licence.

This is not to say that all old people are bad drivers about half of them are wonderful drivers fully capable of operating a car normally like about half the teens out there. Just if we’re going to continue to target and restrict one group of people then we should acknowledge that there’s another group that’s just as bad.

Anyway that’s my view point feel free to disagree

Warcorpse

You know that every one is on the fad of going green and clean energy. Just like they’re on the fad of getting rid of trans fats. I mean they were just on the kick of no-carbs or very low carbs. So they’re on the kick of clean energy but like morons they don’t bother to read the whole report or even consider the consequences of their actions for example.

E-85 the cleaner burning gas that everyone should switch to. Except for the little fact that only the car emissions are cleaner than traditional gas. The truth is that to produce one gallon of E-85 alone coughs up more green house gases than methods used to produce a galleon of gas with the car emissions included.

The electric or hybrid cars well this is a nice idea except where’s the power going to come from. I know that people say that the cars will be charged durning the off peak hours at night. Wait a minute though if everyone is charging their car at night then wouldn’t that make a new peak time for power usage. Now where is this extra power going to come from?

A car that runs on hydrogen a wonderful idea and hopefully in the future it’s available but the fact of the matter is the technology is not there yet. The cost to make the tanks brings the vehicle’s price tag into the one to five million dollar range. It’s the same story with the battery powered car. Good idea but the tech ready to make it cost feasible to the average person.

Now the other big gripe from the eco people that can only see the world through green eyes and screw everyone else is power plants. But that’s a post for another time. You know believe it or not I like the idea of Green energy I do but that’s what it is at the moment a good nice idea. If he half assed rush the new energy we’ll just end up making things a hell of a lot worse, like with the e-85 dibacle.

I’m in the market for another vehicle, I prefer a truck. I’ve driven Chevy since 1977 and would like another dependable, long-lasting, haul anything, go just about anywhere Chevy. But I’m having my doubts about GM being around if I need warranty work done. GM and Chrylser have received $44 billion in bailout funds and say they need more or they’ll file for Chapter 11 protection. Ford is the only car maker who hasn’t received any help, saying they are doing just fine.

I’ve visited a few dealerships and talked with the salesmen and all say the same thing, car makers are an American institution and won’t be allowed to fail. Like I’d believe anything a car salesman says, I peg them just about two levels above a crooked politician and one peg above child molesting clergy. What would happen if GM went bankrupt and closed their doors? Would the world end? Perhaps it would seem that way to the employees, the UAW would be crying in their beers and probably march on Washington.

Instead of a big sign declaring Chevrolet, the sign might read Toyota, Nissan, Lexus, Kia or something else from India. NASCAR fans would be heart broken and Dale Earnhardt would be rolling over in his grave. Oldsmobile and Studebaker were left by the wayside plus a few others we don’t remember and we survived. Does anyone else remember Chrysler going to the public money trough many years ago, under Lee Iococa, getting $3 billion, reorganizing and paying back the loan? I do but today is different and there is little likelyhood that GM and Chryler would pay back $44 billion and emerge stronger.

The biggest losers would of course be the hourly workers, the members of the United Auto Workers who will do anything to preserve their jobs. To date, they have refused to return to the bargaining table and agree to help by lowering their wages and benefits, essentially insuring that a large number will be without jobs. How does that help the company? Even two dollars less per hour on their paychecks would save the company millions per month and maybe save a hundred jobs. I admit that I don’t know what their benefits are but I’m sure it adds thousands of dollars each year.

In talking with a salesman, I discovered that pre-owned vehicles are very much in demand simply because a new one costs too much. A 2009 Chevy Silverado can set me back $40,000 or more while a 2004 model will cost me about $20,000, maybe less, depending on mileage and condition. They are selling fewer new vehicles not because of lack of financing but because buyers are being penny wise. If GM does go bankrupt, there would only be used trucks, no more new ones.

Ford Motor Company would certainly fill in the void by selling more of their vehicles but they can only do so much. Toyota and Nissan would also see an increase in sales but they still wouldn’t have that bowtie in the middle of the grill. An American icon would be gone but not forgotten.

Warcorpse here with something that’s been pissing him off for awhile now.

It’s all these goddamn special interest nannies that want to make sure everyone is safe and we can’t have to much safety. Oh my God would these people either find something else to do with thier lives or find a person willing to fuck them. I’ll give you an example, right now in my state of Minnesota they’re trying to get a law passed that would make not wearing your seat belt enough for a cop to pull you over. Their battle cry for this is we have to protect people from themselves. or Seatbelts save lives and people need to wear them.

Okay here’s my problem with you meddling nannies. First off it’s my life to do with as I please. I fullly understand the risks of driving with out wearing my seatbelt, I know what can happen if I don’t wear it and you know what? I still don’t! It’s not being a rebel or anything I just don’t like the way the damn thing feels when I’m driving. I understand that it might make driving a little more dangerouse by not wearing it but once again it’s my life. I can risk it if i choose.

Here’s something else for the safety nannies that are in every state. There are occupations and hobbies that are far more dangerouse than driving with out your seatbelt. I mean if we want to make the world a totally safe plastic bubble then these activites and JOBS will certinally have to go.

1 Skydiving - Well this will have to be the first thing to go. I mean people jumping out of a plane and falling to the ground with only a prachute to save their lives. What if the shoot doesn’t open or the shoot doesn’t work properly. THey’d fall to thier deaths, wouldn’t they.

2 People like the Grizzly Man and The Crocidaile Hunter - I don’t mean to sound like a dick but what a double standered we have with these individuales. Both of these gentlemen have unfournatly died but when that happened all of these nannies just said well he died doing what he loved. What the hell is that! So if I want to go and live with wild mountain lions for a year with no gun or any safety equitment that’s fine but driving with a seatbelt is not. They understood the risks and  could risk their lives why can’t I.

3 Police Officers and Fire Fighters - These brave people put their lives on the line EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! With that said if we want everyone to be safe then surely such high risk professions will have to go. Of cousre with out these brave people willing to risk the life that the nannies are so eager to protect who will save us from the nutcase on PCP

4 The Military - The title is all I’m going to say about that.

5 People that work on Skyscrapers, Oilrigs, Logging Projects or in mines all of these professions carry a fairly high mortality rate, with a reduced life span to boot. So all of these jobs will have to be thrown on the trash heap. So what if it makes modern life impossible we have to keep everyone safe.

That’s as far as I’m going to go with the list becuase let’s face it everything carries some risk with it. You can have the safeset profession in the world and still get hit by a bus. On that note did all of these nannies forget that has humans we are mortal and will eventually one day die! Nothing you do will change that fact. So let me live my life the way i choose and stay the hell out of my bussiness. Oh just one other thing what about all the people that enjoy riding motercycles remeber them! Last time i checked there weren’t any seatbelts on those.

They are called passenger vehicles because their intended use is as a conveyance to deliver passengers and /or cargo to a destination. Think about this for just a brief moment. PASSENGER VEHICLE, not library, restaurant, beauty salon, or motherfucking phone booth. In order to operate one properly you must put down the newspaper, Big Mac, eyelash curler and Motorola Slim-phone with the M-Life, text messaging, and photo-fucking-viewing feature! If you run over poor little Mary who was innocently playing with her doll on the sidewalk like an organic speed bump because you are too narcissistic to stop your “important” social life to pay attention to what the fuck you are doing in a moving, 2 ton, (some more, some less) carbon monoxide machine; then you deserve to have all of your fingers and toes smashed with a ball peen hammer and then dragged off to prison for the rest of your miserable life.

Just the other day I saw one of the most beautiful cars to ever grace the roadways. Yes I am speaking of the dark blue 1966 Corvette Stingray convertible with the 454 cubic inch gasoline eradicator and a Munsey four on the floor manual transmission that makes it almost impossible to keep it from chirping the tires in every gear. The thing was also manufactured with a carburetor that acts like a toilet for gasoline. If you want to go really fast, right now, all you do is stomp your foot to the floor on the accelerator and flush eight gallons through internal combustion heaven. The damn thing will pass anything on the highway except a Shell Station. The IDIOT driving(?) it was talking on his cell phone and shifting with his left hand. This is not an easy thing to do because you have to put in the clutch with your left foot, let off the gas pedal with your right and reach entirely across your own body to physically move the gearshift. This leaves you with NO hands on the steering wheel of one of the most powerful cars ever built travelling at a speed sufficient for it not to stall when you do shift. So basically this fucking numb nut was all over the road. He looked like he was having a fucking seizure every time the tachometer revved up to a reasonable shifting speed. He got pissed when I pulled up next to him at a light and informed him that even though he had the greatest ride on the planet; he had the driving skills of a three year old on crack. Is your health and well being less important than taking that fucking call? I know mine isn’t.

Put the fucking road map down while you’re sailing up the Interstate at 50 miles hours too, will you? If you’re lost; pull over and either spread out the map on the dashboard or call somebody to help your non-compass ass out. So you’ll get there a little late. You’ll still get there alive.

Do you ladies think for a minute that a good looking corpse is going to get a date? Go ahead and do your makeup at 50. Let one small thing like a small fender bender happen and all of those cosmetics could kill you and/or everyone around you. Eyeliner in the eye, mascara up your nose, or an errant breeze blows powder in your face and you could be on a Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Vacation type ride cross country through that Air Force gunnery range.

No, eating while on your way home isn’t the greatest of ideas either. When you hit that pothole and scald your nether regions with a giant bowl of Wendy’s Three Alarm Chili you are not going to have enough control of the family truckster to avoid the curb and scattering civilians. Although it looks really funny when old people dive in every direction, vehicular manslaughter carries a pretty hefty jail sentence. I am guilty of eating while I drive too. Chicken fingers and French fries are safer than clam chowder and a banana fucking split though. If you were supposed to eat a four course meal while moving through the neighborhood, your car would come equipped with a dining room table attached to the steering wheel. I just read about a numb nut that set the cruise control at 55 in his RV and went to the back to make some coffee. He just won a shitload of money from the manufacturer because it didn’t say that he SHOULDN’T do that while the vehicle was in motion. These are the same fucking idiots that make it necessary for a Superman costume to warn that, “Cape does not enable the wearer to fly”. He should have been locked the fuck up for being an ongoing threat to society because of his obvious lack of reasoning ability and his parents need shot for mating even though they were brother and sister.

I live in Florida and don’t pay a State income tax because the Tourists to the Sunshine State get whacked pretty hard. This also means that half of the fuckers on the highway have no clue where they are going. You can pick them out of the crowd. They are travelling nine miles an hour slower than Grandma’s Grocery Getter, in the center lane with convertibles, pickup trucks and small children on big wheels zipping by them on all sides. The children are playing on the back seat like it was a fucking trampoline. Mom is busy bitching because she couldn’t be bothered to look for the fucking exit BEFORE they got on top of it, and poor Dad has a map spread out in front of the windshield so that he can figure out which way to go to circle around back to Mickey’s Humidity Wonderland. These fuckers invade our state during the summer to enjoy the sun, sand, and surf. Their yearly exodus is coincidental with Hurricane Season. Hurricane Season doesn’t necessarily mean that one will hit us, but it does mean that every day has the exact same weather report. “Today’s Low will be in the mid to upper 70’s. Today’s High will be in the mid to upper 90’s. By the way there is a chance of regional destruction this afternoon.” You will see anywhere from 3 to 5 inches of rainfall in about an hour to an hour and a half depending on how far away from any overhead shelter you are. The scariest thing about the roadways here in relation to this event is that the laws of inertia state that a vehicle travelling at approximately 70 miles an hour will decelerate to 18 and one half miles an hour immediately when one single drop of rain hits the windshield. This is going to inevitably create a bunch of people getting rear ended more than Rock Hudson, Liberace, and Prince all combined.

Back to the topic at hand; Rain + Tourist = a long slow ride to anywhere in the state. Of course Tourist + two lane highway = disaster.

I see a shitload of Soccer Mom vehicles on the side of the road either bashed in, rolled over, on fire, or all of the above. Just what the fuck is it about you minivan, SUV, station wagon driving wenches that makes you think that those vehicles handle like a fucking Testarosa GT? They sit up in the air like the ass on a cat in heat. They do not have the aerodynamics to support a ninety degree turn at just short of the speed of sound. All in all, they handle just slightly worse than a sack of wet door knobs. You have a three ton vehicle that doesn’t handle well and can stop about as quickly as a freight train on ice. Why do you feel the need to get the fucker up to 80 and then even entertain the thought that all Hell isn’t going to break loose when Granny cuts you off in her Grocery Getter? You aren’t going to steer out of it and if you slam on the skidders and turn the wheel at the same time, you are going to crash and burn faster than the Joey Chitwood Stunt Team’s rendition of the Battle for Omaha Beach. Slow that gargantuan, moving flambé mobile down asshole so that the rest of that can drive, CAN DRIVE!

I understand that the sound of twenty three children under the age of seven can and will push the adult human to the brink of destruction, mayhem, and murder. I would drive like it was shot out of a cannon too. That is why I feel intelligent enough to NEVER be in that scenario and if I DID find myself in that situation, I’d be yanking the fuse on the airbag and looking for the first bridge abutment.

Learn to Drive 1 HERE

to be continued…

I hate Walmart’s guts.

I have dragged their secret, hidden store manager out of the invisible, nonexistent closet she hides in on more than one occasion to complain. I am a die-hard complainer – a firm believer in the idea that if someone doesn’t complain, things won’t change. And even if things don’t change, it sure does feel good.

I have returned glasses (optical) that didn’t correct my daughter’s vision, and I have caused everyone in the optical department to hate me simply because I told them that they didn’t know what the problem was that was making it impossible for my daughter to see out of the glasses they made for her. They tried three times, each time getting incrementally more expensive, and after the third try they said she “just needed to wear them for a while so her eyes could adjust”. Whatever. You don’t know what you’re doing; admit it.

The (secret) store manager almost escorted me out of the store on one occasion, when I accidentally let a few cusswords slip while trying to express how damn frustrating it was to get home at 7:00 at night after a long, hard day of work and other crap, stop by Walmart for a quick dinner, see shrimp on sale, buy it, go home, cook dinner, toss it in the pan last (because you only need to cook it a little while before it’s more than done) and have it be rotten and my whole dinner ruined. That’s the second time I’ve bought shrimp from Walmart that made my house stink. (Actually I was reading about shrimp and it’s really gross; I’ll never buy it again after that article, from anyone).

There’s not a single person in the world (I’m guessing) who has shopped at Walmart who can’t complain about the fact that they have four hundred cash registers and only two open at all times.

I could go on and on and on for hours about how much I hate Walmart.

But today, I’m thanking God for them because my brakes needed to be done. And my rotors. And they don’t do brakes or rotors at Walmart. But someone who works in their oil changing department does. And he did mine. And now I have an auto mechanic I can trust, without going broke.

So, Walmart, you suck. But there are a lot of really nice people who work for you that don’t. So thank God for you, you cheap-assed motherfucker, for hiring them so they can make this world a better place by doing what they do best on the side.

Most of us have that wonderful morning and evening ritual Monday through Friday known as the Commute to Work. We relish this as much as the next poor schlep sitting still in his vehicle during RUSH hour. It is very ironic that they would even THINK about calling this gridlocked time period anything remotely resembling an adverb that describes motion. Of course, you could argue that it describes the time it takes for most people to rally forward to their next stopping point approximately fifteen to twenty feet from their previous place.

I am curious where these idiots think they are going when they jam their foot to the floorboard of their 2001 GMC Monster Truck sized SUV? You can see the brake lights on every car for two and a half miles ahead of them and they try to break a land speed record for that three car length movement. You’ve seen them. They dart in and out of three lanes of traffic like a Ritalin deprived kid with A.D.D. Do they think that by beating out enough cars in a traffic jam that they’ll get where they are going any quicker?

Just a tip: if the vehicle you are in is 20 feet long, you have to pass 264 vehicles the same size to gain one mile. Quit being an “A” type personality fucking jerk off and settle the fuck down. One mile an hour isn’t going to get you there much less than sixty seconds sooner and the poor bastard you just rear ended is going to have to wait with you for the State Trooper to show up and fill out the accident report. Estimated Time of Arrival; one hour and fifty four minutes. How much faster are you going to arrive now? Don’t even think about the fact that the rest of us are going to get there much slower because you are too stupid to move the damned accident vehicles OFF of the highway. Once you do get your smashed heap out of the lanes of traffic(?); every rubberneck in the galaxy has to slow down to a crawl to see if anyone died when you hammered that Mini Cooper with a two story building on wheels.

This is another thing that sucks about the way you drive. DO NOT give more than a passing glance to the piled up wreckage as you drive by. Have you ever noticed that there are usually two or three sets of cars that have been in accidents in the same vicinity? That’s because some dumb ass decided that there was enough reason to gawk at the cars on the side of the road that they forget to WATCH WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE DOING!! The next thing you know, two or three of these morons create the same thing they were so inquisitive about in the first place. I know a traffic accident is much the same as a train wreck. You really don’t want to see the carnage, but you just can’t help but look. Good, pull the fuck OFF of the highway, get out your Sure Shot camera and picnic basket so you can make it into a family slide show for later. Don’t fucking worry about the shit going on across the median either. It is too far away for your inquiring fucking mind to want to know anyway. Pay attention to the dickhead in front of you that jammed on the skidders so his wife and kids can see the grotesquely mangled forms hanging out of the wreckage. Now get the fuck out of there before they decide to block off all eight lanes of traffic to bring in the Trauma Hawk to life flight out a couple of soon to be corpses.

It is a FUCKING TOW TRUCK! Haven’t you ever seen someone change a God Damned tire? Maybe if you pull over; the poor bastard with the flat will let YOU change it so you can see first hand how the entire operation works. Don’t try to figure out the process while you clog up a lane of moving vehicles on the fucking interstate.

If you see an Officer of the Law next to the highway, he is doing one of three things.

1. He is waiting for your speeding ass to come into view so he can tag you with the latest in Laser/ Radar technology and give you and the pack of low altitude missiles that you are travelling with tickets for flying too low. This means that as soon as you see him it is too late to lock up the brakes and avoid the ticket. What you will accomplish by doing this is ensuring that the officer can radio for the accident investigation squad to come out and not only give you additional tickets for stupidity but remove that Toyota Supra suppository from your moronic ass.
2. He is investigating the accident that all those other fuckers are craning their necks to see what happened and if anyone survived the collision. Watch the road for debris and lookey look mother fuckers, but by all means proceed before you get tagged in the ass harder and faster than a drunken sailor in a Key West drag bar.
3. He is writing a ticket to another Sultan of Speed. Proceed as described in # 2. He is probably too busy screaming at that guy and thumbing the snap on the holster of his H&K .40 caliber smart ass eradicator to pay much attention to you breaking the speed of sound as you pass by. Be wary though, they travel in packs like wolves and you might want to check your rearview mirror in case his buddy was hiding behind that Speed Kills billboard you blew the paint off of as you went by.

I am a firm believer that just because you drive fast doesn’t mean you possess the skill to drive fast. Read the statistics from the National Highway Safety Administration. They report about a bunch of numb nuts that thought they could drive fast EVERYWHERE they went. A lot of them went from zero to graveyard a fuck of a lot quicker than they thought possible. At a hundred miles an hour the road surface becomes very narrow in your line of sight. Any slight reaction or over reaction will fuck you harder than a pissed off pachyderm giving his cow a grudge fuck.

They have speed limits on the road for a reason. To try to maintain some safety for everyone out there. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy the thrill of a hundred miles an hour and occasionally do so, but not at 3 o’clock in the afternoon in front of the parochial school crossing guard trying to herd the little shits across the street. Those minimum speed limits are just as important. If you or your vehicle can’t handle a brisk 40 miles per hour on an interstate highway; stay the fuck off of it. I realize that there are times that your car, truck, motorcycle or other conveyance decides after you wheeled onto the superhighway of choice that it just doesn’t feel like going faster than nineteen miles a weekend. So, pull the fuck over to the breakdown lane and limp to the nearest exit. Four way flashers don’t mean that you won’t get an enema from a hulking Kenworth hauling bridge parts. Just try to get out of the way of the traffic that CAN do the speed limit.

Turn signals are the most unused and misused feature on vehicles today. The idea is that you are letting the vehicles around you know what you intend to do, even if you have no clue yourself. Putting on a turn signal doesn’t guarantee that you won’t get that same K’Whopper grinding your ass to dust if you get in his way. Make sure there isn’t someone occupying or about to occupy the space on the roadway you intend to penetrate BEFORE you zip into it. This would mean that if I am doing 50 and you are doing 30 it is probably not a good idea to just whip out into my lane. Not only are you about to see the universal “You’re Number One” gesture, but your vocabulary will benefit from the ear beating you are about to receive. This is all in retrospect if we do collide. Auto, Life, Health, and Hospitalization insurance would be a great thing to own in that instance.

The fact that you didn’t use a signal doesn’t surprise me either. Hell, I expect to get pulled out in front of more often than not. This still doesn’t mean I am creeping along at 15 M.P.H. everywhere I go.

Crotch Rockets seem to have the most fucking dipshits on the planet operating them. If you are a bike rider, you know the old adage, “There are two kinds of riders; the ones who have gone down and the ones who are about to go down” and I don’t mean on your sweetheart. If you are one of the ones that has gone down you know not to go zipping in between cars, trucks, busses, and commercial well drilling equipment at speeds that make your face hurt from the G forces pulling it into that comical movie expression the actors make when a rocket ship takes off. One errant car door can park your happy ass in the cheap seats permanently. If you haven’t gotten your socks rocked off yet and fall into the second category, I will pray that you don’t go splat on your first venture into the wild blue yonder. Just because you are wearing a helmet does not make you into a cosmonaut. You will love the feeling of wind in your hair and under your ass but you will most likely end up doing the asphalt disco with a distinctive road rash slide at the end. Soccer Moms love you guys. You don’t make large unsightly dents on their Yukons and Expeditions. Hell, they can wipe you off with the bug glub squeegee at the local Gas and Go. This brings me to the most notorious known natural enemy of a two wheeled iron horse.

Just what the fuck is the correlation between age and the size of the car you are driving. If you see a 1969 Dodge Polara (the longest car manufactured) travelling at thirteen miles an hour in a forty five mile an hour zone, you can rest assured that it is piloted by someone’s great grandmother. Unfortunately for us she probably can barely see past the length of the hood let alone anything smaller than the Sears Tower in front of her. She can’t look over the steering wheel so she has to peer through the opening created between the top of the dashboard and the hole in the steering wheel. You’ve seen her. Don’t laugh. She can take up more roadway than a double wide loaded tractor trailer jack knifed on a hairpin turn. She makes right hand turns from the far left lane. Changes direction less often than she sheds her Depends. Basically she navigates that fucking land barge into the path of everything on the planet. Best to just give it a wide berth until the coast is clear enough to shoot through like her prune juice and Metamucil cocktail did earlier, fast and unnoticed.

Continued…………Here

Right, you’re thinking what the hell is a motard? Well, much like my resume, accomplishments and friends, it’s something I made up. I don’t consider myself very PC at all. I admit to laughing at stereotypes and saying words I probably shouldn’t. So in this age of censorship, right wing religious fanaticism and closed-mindedness, I decided to do something about it. So instead of using a word someone would get slightly offended at, I made up my own. That way, nobody can get offended. I don’t want to hear someone whine that motard is some ancient Native American tribe, or holds some racial meaning. Motard is an offensive word that you can’t be offended by. Pretty smart, huh?

                OK, so I didn’t quite make up the word. The first time I ran across it, it was the name of a band. And I molded it into its original meaning of “idiot driver”. You can even see ‘motor’ in the word. Since then, like most words, its meaning morphed into any sort of idiot; idiot on the street, idiot at the bar, idiot in the mall. There are motards all around us.

                (For the record, there is some previous debate on the origin of the word. A cursory search on Yahoo reveals motard is the name of a motorbike, a Marine term, and a cross between ‘retard’ and ‘moron’. I won’t take credit for any of those, but it’s damn close to the last one. Plus I have documented use of motard from at least 7 years ago. If you can dig up the band The Motards, I will be glad to cut them in on some t-shirt money.)

                Motard is a flexible word. You can say things like, “John is such a motard” or “Stop acting like a motard”.  You can be ‘motarded’.  But perhaps it’s best to use a few examples to show the origin of motard. All of the below are true stories and have happened to me at some point.

                While in the toll lane waiting to pay the toll to go over the bridge, the car in front of me started backing up. Right into me. That is a motard.

                While waiting at a red light, the car in front of me backed up. Right into me. That is a motard.

                While driving out of the city, we were clearly struck from behind. Not that it was a high impact at all, but enough to jolt us. The car behind us immediately jumped out and sped off into the right lane. We jumped right behind him and I wrote down the plate. Upon seeing this, the driver pulled back to us, and asked us if there was a problem. “Yes,” I said. “Number 1 you hit us. And number 2, you are a motard.” Yes it was a Jersey driver, and no it wasn’t a female.

                There’s plenty more examples of motards behind the wheel. I am sure you’ve seen the driver in the left hand lane who suddenly has to cut across all the lanes to make a right. Anyone that drives 20 miles below the limit is a motard. Just the other day, I was coming down the street, doing the speed limit. From the shopping center in front of me, some guy pulls right out in front of me and proceeds to drive 5 MPH. All the while, he is physically motioning me to slow down as I am braking so as not to hit his bumper.  Play traffic cop somewhere else, but not in front of me.

                Motards drive at night with no lights on. Motards drive miles with the turn signal on. Motards can also perform their special brand of stupidity when they’re not driving, too. You’ve seen them in the parking lots, where they are taking up 2 spots. Or worse yet park in the handicapped spot. Unfortunately, modern science doesn’t agree with my contention that being a motard can count as being handicapped. Motards park in fire lanes, too, just so they can “run in” to the store for 20 minutes. Every time there’s a flood you can count on seeing at least 1 motard who ignored all the signs, and drove into 5 feet of water and got stuck. You know the firemen and cops can’t be happy. “Copy that, command, we got another motard stuck in the road. Yea, usual road, usual spot.”

                So please be safe out there. The motards are always out there. Usually right in front of you.