California Freeways

Okay, so today’s gripe is really several, all wrapped into one adventure. The honey and I spent the last couple of days down in Hollywood. Okay, we know there is enough to rant about in that area, but I have a few in particular today. Not about the area necessarily, but about the way there and back.

As some of you may know, I make my living at home writing both fiction and articles. That means I don’t have to drive a whole lot, and it’s a darn good thing. I thought CA was supposed to be a place where everyone rushed, and folks who move in from out of state had a hard time keeping up. So why then are people going 45 MPH in the fast lane? And why do they merge at 35 MPH, and then simply get into the fast lane as quick as possible, just go to slow some more? I have never seen so many slow drivers as on our freeways.

Of course, they aren’t all slow. Inevitably, some kid in a Honda with a coffee can for a muffler passes me going 90 MPH, bobbing his head and hitting the gas as often as possible so we can all be sure that his car does indeed sound like an overgrown, angry bumble-bee. These same geniuses always have horrible paint jobs and the headliner is invariably falling down around them. Seems to me that the hundreds they spent on the exhaust and rims might have been better used at the paint and interior shop. I’m just saying. And lose the blue lights, fella; we are in CA, not on the Moon.

Also, just to be clear, a police car on the other side of the freeway who is tending to a fender bender cannot pull you over. It is okay to remain at or just above the speed limit when you see him. I promise. And did someone govern mini-vans at 55 MPH when I wasn’t looking? Are those things really such piles of crap that they don’t have it in them to go above 60? If I see a mini-van ahead I just change lanes to avoid the inevitable temper problem.

Finally, I would like to drop a note to Cal-Trans, explaining that they really don’t need to blind oncoming traffic for four miles when they are doing a little road construction. The lights they put up rival Wrigley Field. Tip: If the light is pointed down, you can see your work better. No need to point it directly at the motorists. Thank you.

As a side note, we did run into Kathy Griffin down there, who was outside her home jogging. Sorry, Kathy, if the honey scared you as we rolled by in the dark gray Taurus and she screamed, “I love you Miss Kathy!” It simply had to be done. Hey, at least we didn’t stop and ask for pictures. She really is a fan. She loves your stuff. I couldn’t talk her into stopping, though. She thought she’d be bugging you.