Freakin’ Yokels

Some folks just make ya wonder why their ears don’t bang together.

We got that big intimidating bumper stuck on the truck today, marking the finish of this phase of the truck modification and also coinciding with my being right next to out of marijuana, so we took a test drive up to Ski Town. You know you’re living right when things just fall into place like that.

The interesting part of the journey was once again the traffic. Last time the traffic was interesting it was the Saturday before Christmas and folks were heading to Ski Town to make a memorable holiday of it. Because snow is just so Bing Crosby and shit. This time, it’s because Interstate 70 is closed in Glenwood Canyon and the only detour is a nice mountain drive through such places as Dinkytown and Ski Town. Now, to me, such a detour is an opportunity to just lean back, enjoy the scenery, and tell whatever’s waiting for me on the other end that an act of nature, a genuine no-shit force majeure, is making me late so please shut up while I enjoy this nice ride through the Rockies.

Apparently I am somewhat unusual in my perspective. And that tends to piss off a certain sort of flatlander, because, well, being a guy who lives here I’m always just leaning back, enjoying the scenery, and getting there when I get there. We weren’t a mile out of Dinkytown when some flavor of Asian SUV sporting New Mexico tags got stuck to our pretty new back bumper while we were rolling at the limit. Soon enough the driver found an opportunity to pass, and as he or she did I said out loud, “What? You don’t think a long mountain road detour around a closed interstate is going to be swarming with state patrol?”. I dunno. It seems pretty obvious to me. It should, since we live along the detour that’s used every time a rockslide or wildfire closes that stretch of interstate. But I think it should be pretty obvious to any driver who makes a habit of indulging a hot foot on public highways, too.

And since we all, pretty much, have at some point in our lives made a habit of hot footing it around, don’t we all also know that on the highways we are the prey? And if that’s the case, shouldn’t it be a matter of basic instinct to exercise great caution when traversing a pinch point? Like, oh, I don’t know, a two lane mountain road detouring a major interstate highway?

We were rolling along in cruise control right at the speed limit when we passed the Asian SUV from New Mexico with a Colorado State Trooper behind it. I said out loud, to amuse Amethyst and myself, “See? Toldja”, and amused we were. We laughed for a solid minute at least.

We pulled into a feeding station along the way to get some food-like substance to eat as we drove. That’s not at all our style — we’re the sort who travel in a more leisurely fashion, but today we wanted to get off of the road before dark so we had to make allowances. A little way up the road after our pseudo-sustenance was eaten we passed that Asian SUV from New Mexico on the side of the road with a Colorado State Trooper behind it.

I couldn’t think of anything to say. We laughed and laughed and laughed some more, and we laugh again at the mention of it since we arrived safely back home. The fool passed us twice and we still got the Ski Town way ahead. And a lot cheaper, too! I traveled that stretch of road twice in one day and got a half ounce of weed for a lot less money that that driver paid to travel it just once and get nothing but traffic citations.

Yep, that’d make me a yokel. Weed costs less than speeding here, so it’s my kind of place.

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3 thoughts on “Freakin’ Yokels

  1. solberg73

    Happened to me in ’68 on the (still unpaved?’ Alaskan Highway. I’d have to look at a map to remember where exactly. Me in a 60-something Volvo 122 doing the tactical limit given the horrid conditions, passed by a gang of young bucks in a red Camaro. My new wife and I made bets how long it would take for Fate to vanquish the incautious brood. Fifty miles northward and we had our answer: an upside-down pile of metal shards plus two ambulances, or more likely ‘hearses’ from the looks of it.
    Yes, one of the ‘attractions’ I now only dimly recall from my 43 Pennsylvania winters, was watching… and sighing, as drivers paid that price (like they call the Lottery: ‘A tax on mathematical ignorance’) for their bravado. ‘Get out of the way, dude; I can get up that hill no prob.’
    Ok, partly unrelated, I need to be in touch with you about a recent issue close to our hearts. Ship me a hello if you have a sec, just add that leading search-co’s domain to my user name. Pleasant motoring.

    Reply
    1. happierheathen Post author

      Check your inbox if you haven’t yet. 🙂

      It’s kind of curious how easy it is to predict the immediate fates of those who drive poorly. I couldn’t even begin to guess at a reason for it happening so often that somehow or other the thought gets into my head that this one’s headed for the ditch, or a ticket, or a wreck, and then it happens. Could be that it’s saved my life a few times, so I don’t question it too much.

      Reply
  2. g.

    We live on a rural highway. Speeding here is terrible. Once we were almost rear-ended because the driver behind us didn’t notice we’d put on our left turn signal. He came up so fast, C had to hit the accelerator even as Speedy swerved around us. This kind of nonsense happens all the time–usually with no consequences we can see.
    But our best story is the guy who just could NOT wait to pass, despite oncoming traffic. He zoomed out around us and cut in tight in front to avoid the car coming towards him. I wish we could have seen his face when he realized the oncoming car was a police cruiser (which made a remarkable u-turn, I might add). Our speeder pulled over before the cop could turn his lights on. He knew.
    g.

    Reply

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