Deep thoughts...from HWY 7

I get down to visit the fam about once every calendar month. Lately it seems I go down on babysitting excursions and those that are friends with me on Fakebook may see my status updates that tell you exactly how my adventures in babysitting went. For the most part, they leave me wanting another drink and thankfully returning to my uncomplicated life in the city.

To render my free services, I have to drive the 197 km from doorstep to doorstep. That's 394 km round trip where I am alone in the car to belt out whatever bubblegum pop comes on the radio and to rage to myself about drivers on HWY 7.

There are a few things I've come to realize. No one seems to understand the concept of 'slower traffic keep right' especially in passing lanes. And speaking of passing lanes, why is it that everyone does 10-15 km faster in the passing lane than they were previously going - only to once again slow down when the extra lane merges, thereby clogging up traffic again. And why is it that some drivers will cock block (see definition #2, second meaning) you when you try and peek around their cars to see if you can pass or not? But it's really the local traffic on HWY 7 that gets me every time.

I think, every domestically-owned manufacturer of car, makes big huge white cars for old people to drive so that they can be mistaken for OPP and then no one passes them when they are out for their Sunday drives and doing 78km/hour. Stuck behind these cars are the soccer mom driven mini vans that stay close enough to the bumper of the oldies car so that if you want to pass, you have to overtake both of them, but they never pass themselves.

And then, there are the trucks.

I grew up in a truck family. My mom drove a car, my dad a truck. And every car we owned had a name - Black Beauty, Old Grey Mare, etc. It got me in the habit of naming cars myself - also because I feel, as road ragey as this will sound, like it's me and my car against everyone else on the road. We're a team. I treat her well, she shows me the passing love. And she never lets me down.

So this am I got stuck behind a big burly truck on HWY 7. He, like the soccer moms, was driving too close to, you guessed it, a big white car full of old people, so I couldn't pass both of them easily. As we were getting close to civilization (ie. Perth), I knew that I would eventually lose some of the congestion in Perth so I decided to just wait out the 10km to pass.

And that's when I really started to look at the truck. I noticed that there was some kinda decal above the Sierra nameplate on the back tailgate. I thought it said 'intermediate' as in, a medium sized Sierra. Hey, what do I know, I drive Fiona the Fit?? But no, as I got closer, so I could D&S (Drive and Snap), I realized it acutually said 'intimidator' which only made me roll my eyes more because, if you can read the license plate it says....

Girthy

















This would only be better if he had a set of truck testicles hanging from the hitch like my next door neighbours ex-husband does from his truck. He is CLASS, ALL - THE - WAY!























And those have been your Sunday deep thoughts from HWY 7.