Adventures in Driving in Southeastern Michigan

November 24, 2005 at 10:12 am (Funny Shit, WTF)

Can you drive well in the snow? 'Tis the Season, ladies and germs–the first snow that's sticking to the ground is falling outside my window.

I knew it was coming, because that's just how I roll (and that's just how my fucked-over back and newly-complaining knee roll too). I made a point of making sure I have everything I need to make what I'm supposed to tomorrow. I even did a "don't forget" list for Honey.

So much for my planning ahead. Honey launched into his planned clam chowder this morning, only to decide 10 minutes into the job that he doesn't have enough milk. He's already got his mom slaving away peeling his potatoes, which is what she tells him.

"But I don't have my shoes on, Mom" is his brilliant comeback.

Nice. All that money spent on an Engineering degree and he can't figure out how to go from shoeless to shod. This guy can build one of the six parts used on the Ford Explorer that has never been under recall, but it doesn't occur to him that putting on a pair of shoes is fairly easy stuff. I'm not amused–I know Honey well enough to know this is Honeyspeak for "I don' wanna goooooo."

So, I go put on a bra (I don't give a shit if I'm seen in sweats and a shirt that says, "I wanna be like Barbie–the bitch has everything" but I won't be caught dead in pubic without a bra except under extreme duress), get the car keys to H'sMa's Lumina, and head out. "No problem," I vaguely recall saying, "Hel*Mouth's only a mile away."

I really should know better.

On the way there, I wind up behind a 4WD Ford pickup whose driver clearly thought he was fine because, well, he's got that nifty-assed four wheel drive, so he's not going anywhere but on the road.

I bet he thought that all the way to the ditch. I reach for my purse to get my useless cell phone, only to realize I'd just grabbed my wallet and left the shitcarrier home. Oops. See you on the way back, dumbass. Hope you remembered yours.

Hel*Mouth was not a fun time either. It was full of folks who just have no conception of the concept of them not being the only people with things to do in that store. The customers were even worse–I nearly got rear-ended again when a guy holding a list that his wife obviously wrote, in VERY large print, decided that the best way around a cart is through it. This prize catch (thank you Jeebus for this man already having a woman to make life hell for) yelps, "Hey!" after he taps the back end of my cart, like it's my damned fault he's trying to read and push the cart at the same time. Buddy, would you do that in a car?

On second thought, maybe the better question is, "Do you own that white Ford pickup sitting in the ditch about 1/4 mile from here?"

Anyhow, I get out of the place, managing not to throw anything or invent new swear words, get in the car, brace myself, decide to forego the stop at Caribou (no WAY am I going to try to maneuver that six-foot-wide parking lot today. I'd have to hurt someone if I did) and just get the car home before someone wipes me off the road.

BLEAH! That's about the only way to describe the trip home. Between the yuppie scum talking on their cell phones instead of paying attention to who they're about to rear-end, the car next to that pickup who thought he didn't have to get the ass-end of that Beamer out of the road, and the little old lady (least I think it was a lady–sometimes it's hard to tell) who just stopped in the middle of the exit from Hel*Mouth, apparently unable to decide if it was true that if you press the foot pedal on the far right if the car would move, I began to mumble the mantra that got me home.

"Next time, I bring the Mauser."

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