Hang Up and Drive

Okay, my new job is great but I have to commute to it. I've gone from a two mile drive to a 28 mile drive, and you farkers need to learn how to drive if you expect me to share the road with you.



Most times when I hit a slow down that makes me late, I don't get any explanation. There's nothing on those stupid Scout boards, and the radio station I happen to be listening to at the time must have just done traffic because there'll be a new President before they do it again.



But today, I had a nice, satisfying answer to shy I was sitting there with a thumb up my butt.

The traffic flowed like water at first. I was early, and that's key. The earlier I leave home, the smoother my commute. If I'm rolling by 7:00, I can usually count on having fifteen to twenty minutes to kill in Waldo before work. If I don't leave until 7:15, I can count on skulking in noticing the clocks all say 8:10 or later.




But today, early starts were no good. Yesterday was much the same, but yesterday I didn't know why. Today I got to glower at the wreckage of the type of asshead who runs up my tailpipe, almost clips me passing, and proceeds to drive on the shoulder to get around a bottleneck.

The Scout sign told me the two left lanes were closed because of an accident past Nall, so I got to the right. Then I see emergency vehicles and shit, and it's on the right. At first, I thought the sign was just wrong, like whoever programmed it needed to wait for the 'ludes to wear off. But as I got closer, I found the two left lanes were closed, and so wast he right one. This leaves one lane for a four-lane highway to negotiate during it's busiest hour.