Life in the Country, Part 29357

Today was Rural Traffic Jam day. Going to work I ended up stuck for several miles on Route 11 (which I prefer to I-81 because less insane truckers on meth) behind some sort of Lovecraftian farm implement on huge wheels going about 20 miles per hour in a 55 miles-per-hour zone. No really, it was this skeletal thing with all these tubes coming off of it and I half expected it to roar out “Iä! Iä! Cthulhu ftaghn!” (I think it was some sort of irrigation thing, or maybe what sprayed out of those tubes was acid to dissolve marauding Shoggoths.) There was, of course, no visible license plate, not even the one saying “farm use” that I saw on a beat-up old truck going down a definitely-not-the-farm road the other week.

Then tonight on my way home I ended up stuck behind a horse-and-buggy. The poor beast was clopping along hell-for-leather too, and the considerate and patient Virginia drivers were whizzing around it inches away, completely disregarding the double no-pass lines on the road. The buggy had one of those big shiny orange reflective triangles on the back. I ended up having to pass the horse too, because of the considerate and patient Virginia driver behind me that was trying to crawl up my ass and I was afraid an accident would occur and I’d end up buried in a mess of dead horse and Amish and considerate and patient Virginia driver. I’m so glad I moved out of Florida with all those crazy homicidal people who drive there and now live in a civilized place where everyone is so considerate and patient with other people on the road.


One thought on “Life in the Country, Part 29357

  1. “Lovecraftian farm implement” cracked me up.

    Reminds me of driving in Ireland when I visited there in 2006. Two hours out of Dublin, and the roads get a little crazy. Sheep can wander onto the road and settle down, unmoved by your honking. Occasionally a cow joins in on the fun. Some minor roads are designated as ‘two lane’ and aren’t one-way, however they can only fit one or one-and-a-half cars, so if there’s a car coming towards you, not too quickly you hope, you need to negotiate who pulls off the road (hopefully there will be a little indentation among the trees or rocks where your car can slip in as the other drives by). There are narrow roads curving among hills that can in theory accommodate two cars going in opposite directions, but you can’t see ahead of you around the bend, and you don’t know if there’s someone there about to make a sharp turn so you try to give this hypothetical car as much space as possible, moving to the side of the road as far as you can, and getting your car scraped by rocks and tree branches. Or you honk as you approach the bend to let them know you’re there. It’s a relief in some ways to be stuck going behind a slow-moving tractor, because it feels like they’re paving the way for you; by the noise they make people can usually tell they’re approaching. It’s a beautiful country, but the driving is for someone with nerves of steel.

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