Real Life Cutters!

I'm sure my kids are sick of hearing me talk about courtesy when it comes to driving. Plus, I've already used up oodles of keystrokes and blog electrons on the subject. In particular, my Stop Driving Like an Idiot post from December of 2007 came to mind the other day when something sad (and yet funny) happened to me.



If you didn't click over to the link (and why bother, really), you only need to read this part:

7. Don't Cut - This goes back to grade school, folks. You don't cut in line just because you can get away with it. Imagine that you're in the check out lane of a grocery store and you see a little space between two people ahead of you. Would you simply shove your way into the space with your cart and ignore the others around you? Sometimes, things happen and you have to find your way onto a lane (see #5). When that happens, use your signal and be considerate.

Well, we were talking about that very subject on Saturday morning in the car and a few hours later we found ourselves approaching the checkout lady at Wal-mart. We were to be the next in line behind someone who was seconds away from leaving. Lo and behold, from out of nowhere an elderly man JUMPED IN LINE AHEAD OF HIS--just like I described in the post a few years ago. He really did it! All we could do was laugh and walk over to the next lane where no one was waiting. I may have made some comment to my wife about it out loud so he could hear me and feel like a tool.



Oh, and I suppose I should point out that I plan on a regular return to blogging. Blogging frees my mind and allows me to record some of the strange things that happen in my life. I welcome your comments and I'll be sure to look some of you up as well. My wife has also promised to jump back into the blogosphere.

Facebook Ads for Forty Year Olds

Many of you are familiar with Facebook, as am I. As slick as it is, it's hard to believe that they make so much money on advertising when I regularly see stuff like this (left).

Obviously, Facebook looks at my age to create my personalized ads...or is that just a coincidence? (Note sarcasm--I need that new punctuation mark for sarcasm I've been hearing about!) By the way, who has a Driver's License picture like that, anyway? Could you imagine that whole scenario? Let's try...

BMV* LADY: Ok, just stand here in front of the backdrop and I'll take your picture so you can have your new license.

STUD GUY: Ok. Does my hair look ok?

BMV LADY: Uh....sure...whatever. I have 72 people waiting behind you and I need to take a government approved break where I just sit and do nothing. Let's keep it moving.

STUD GUY: Well, I guess it's ok. Now, tell me, what's my motivation in this shot?

BMV LADY: What? Your motivation? I guess your motivation is that you need a new license or you won't be able to drive. Now, PLEASE look into the camera.

STUD GUY: Perfect. Let me get there. I'm a method actor.....[long pause, people can be heard screaming in the background.] WAIT! This doesn't seem right. It needs something.

BMV: Sir, all I need to do is push the button so you can move on and I can get my break.

STUD GUY: I got it. I'll take my shirt off.

BMV: Sir, that's really not necess....oh, ok.

Since I'm 40, I qualify for $12/month car insurance. I'm sure that has to be real, right? (still need that SarcMark) Plus, I can get a FREE Apple iPad

*That's right, I said "BMV!" Here in Indiana it's the Bureau of Motor Vehicles and not the DMV.

PROOF! Texting while driving is dangerous.

Finally, we have the proof that we need. A recent study conducted by the Virginia Tech Transportation Institute just confirmed that texting while driving is even more dangerous than previous studies had determined.

Here's the actual link to the story.

Is Virginia Tech a public school? I sure hope so. I hope that my tax dollars contributed to this study. And thank goodness they had the sense to do more than one study on this. Folks probably didn't believe the first study that confirmed it was actually dangerous to type messages on a phone while driving. Hopefully, we will continue with these studies so that everyone can come to a rational conclusion.

I hope you're picking up my sarcasm.

P.S. I wrote this entire blog post while driving, eating an ear of corn and crocheting a hat.

Fun Times at the Airport Parking Garage

While I've traveled quite a bit in the past, I haven't been to Indianapolis's new airport enough times to know the routines. Just the other day our entire family decided that we'd be on hand to greet my mother-in-law who was returning from a nearly two month visit to Germany. By the time I dropped off the wife and chillins and managed to drive all the way back to the parking garage and get out, they were all walking towards me. I had been out of the car for less than a minute and they were all ready to leave. That's two bucks down the tubes but I didn't mind since we all love my wife's parents quite a bit. I was right next to the pre-pay machine so I decided to pay for my ticket there and save some time getting out of the gate.

It's simple. You put your ticket in and then pay for your parking via cash or a credit card. They print out a receipt that shows when you came in, when you left and that you've paid your fare. So, as I was driving out, I pulled up to the Pre-Paid gate and realized that I needed my original parking ticket to get out. I never made the connection that I'd still need it and had left it at the the pre-pay machine inside the garage. No problem. I pulled up to a gate with a man inside a booth and showed him my receipt. Everything was on that little piece of paper. I figured it would only take me an extra minute for this guy to read the receipt and let me pass.

Obviously, that wasn't the case or I wouldn't be sitting here pecking away at the keyboard. First off, he told me that I needed to make sure I have my ticket the next time.

"Sorry about that," I said. I honestly didn't care because I had paid two dollars to park for two minutes. I wasn't mean about it.

He spent the next five minutes fumbling through papers, his cash register and some random files while writing things down on my receipt. I couldn't figure out what he was up to.

"I'm going to need to see your license," he said.

While I couldn't figure out why he would need it, I was prepared to hand it over. At this point I noticed that the gate was open...but I still handed it over. I figured another minute of my life wasted wasn't that big of a deal. He must have waited at least two minutes (still fumbling around doing who knows what) before taking the license and then I can only assume that he drew a perfect representation of it--including the way "Indiana" is written at the top and sketching my head shot. He walked out of the booth and gave me the license, but he was too close to the car for me to do anything.

"Do you need a blood sample?" I asked, knowing that I was being a smart@$$ but I couldn't resist at this point. I don't think he heard me or cared about what I said. He wandered to the back of the vehicle and told me he need to write down my license plate. While I didn't see him reach for any colored markers or pencils, I can only assume, once again, the he re-created my license plate on the back of the receipt. Maybe it's some kind of hobby. Finally he came back to the car and gurgled out some ineligible words. The Mrs. thought he said something about a vehicle inspection and I was looking for a good vein for him to draw blood.

By this time fifteen minutes had gone by and I was still sitting at the opened gate. He handed me some form that needed my signature and I quickly scribbled "Homer J. Simpson" at the bottom. Sometimes you just have to stick it to the man. That's how I roll.

Of Blimps & Wienermobiles

Indianapolis may not be the cultural mecca of western civilization, but we have our share of big time events that draw prestigious advertisers to the roads and skies of our fair cities. Specifically, I'm speaking of the Indianapolis 500 and the Brickyard 400 races which usually draw the presence of the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile and the Goodyear Blimp.

I've had the privilege of seeing both of these machines up close and in person. I was reminded of that yesterday when I read a front-page news item from the Indianapolis Star about the Wienermobile coming to town (maybe it was a slow news day). I recall seeing it at a local grocery store a few years ago with the kids. You haven't lived until you've seen a giant hot dog on wheels up close. Seriously, when you're not expecting to see a gasoline powered frankfurter, it's a little surprising and exciting all at the same time.


Which reminds me of a close encounter I had with the Goodyear Blimp. Indianapolis is circled by an Interstate highway called I-465. It literally goes around the entire outer edge of the city and connects to many other highways and interstates. I'm sure your local large metropolitan area has a similar thoroughfare. One late afternoon I was returning home from the office on 465 while working my way through some peculiar patches of fog--something we don't see too often in the later part of the day. It was thick enough in one area that I slowed down to 30-35 miles an hour just to make sure I could react if anything were to happen in front of me. Suddenly, the fog cleared out just enough for me to see an enormous spacecraft hovering above me. There was no doubt in my mind that it was going to abduct me in order to perform bizarre experiments on my body and/or corpse. Of course, this was the initial thought that ran through my head as the Goodyear Blimp emerged from the low-hanging clouds. To this day I'm thankful that neither my bladder nor bowels were full and that I managed to keep the car on the road.

It just goes to show you that never expect to see the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile or the Goodyear Blimp...and no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.

How to Send Your Friends to Jail

I come up with some great ideas from time to time...ideas that I'd never actually follow through with because they are so incredibly wrong. But I thought that I'd at least take the time to share this one. While looking for something in my friend's glove compartment while he was driving me to lunch I noticed his Registration card and thought that it would be hilarious to write the following on the back of the card:

"Officer, I really don't want this ticket to go against my driving record. Would $200 make it go away."

Boy, wouldn't that be funny?

Dump Trucks - Your Thoughts, Please

Let me ask you this: Have you ever seen one of these drive slow (other than when they are actually dumping something or being filled up)?


Is there something about dump trucks or dump truck drivers that cannot go slow?

Target Practice

For a long time I could not get pictures from my cell phone to my computer. Thanks to a phone call I finally made to Verizon wireless, I can do it again. This can only mean good things for the loyal readers of big doofus blog (both of you). Now you can see the things that inspire me while I'm out and about.

So, here's one that I managed to save for quite some time now. Apparently, I must have cut off a bird while I was driving because he dropped one heck of a berry puree' on my windshield while I was sputtering down the road. It took a LOT of wiper fluid to get this spot off. YUCK!

This Actually Happened Today

I'm sure I've posted quite a bit about driving over the years...

Driving In The Work Zone
Q-Tips Out the Window
Safe Travel on Interstates With Construction
I was RIGHT!!!!!
Stop Driving Like an Idiot
My Drive to Work Today
Chinook Helicopters and Trucks With Flames

...wow, I really have!

Over the years, I've been convicted some about driving the speed limit. I'm not totally whacked out about it. I'll admit that there are times when I drive fast, but it doesn't happen too much these days. On top of that, the price of gas is yet another motivator to drive slow. I get great gas mileage by slowing down and using my cruise control.

I also do my best not to annoy all of the selfish, idiot drivers who assume that they own the road. I've found that it's best to just let them get through because there's no reasoning with anyone when conversations (if you can really call them that) are limited to about two seconds as they speed by and usually consist of just a few hand gestures. That usually puts me in the right lane where I get along fine. 99 percent of the people that come up behind me figure out that I'm not going to go any faster and they go around me. That's how it's supposed to work. But every so often I get Mr. or Mrs. 1 Percent that just doesn't get it. They don't "get" the fact that I'm simply obeying the law and they don't "get" the fact that I'm staying in the right lane to allow everyone else through.

Today, while driving 55 mph in the right lane of I-465 (note that there are three lanes to the left of me) I had a black car pull up on my bumper and flash his lights as if he were on the German autobahn. If I were going to pull out of the way for him, which way was I supposed to go? Into the shoulder? Instead of the hand gesture that I wanted to show him, I just waved at him. He must have realized that I wasn't going to move so he pulled around me. As he buzzed by, I flashed my entire hand to him two times to symbolize the speed limit: FIVE - FIVE (i.e. 55 mph). He looked confused, at best. He was also at least EIGHT - FIVE (i.e. 85) years old and had a handicapped license plate.

My Drive To Work Today

There were two interesting things that happened on the way to work this morning. First off, there was an angry, impatient guy in a big black truck behind me that honked repeatedly at me because he wanted me to make my left turn--INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC. After I DID make the turn, he drove around me and I think he was trying to get me to pull over for a good old fashioned red-neck road rage fight. I'm not kidding. I didn't take him up on it. I hope that doesn't make me any less of a man.

Secondly, I saw one tow truck pulling another tow truck. That's something I've never seen in my entire life and answers so many questions that I've had in life.