05 December 2005

Now, testify!

I was traveling down a lonely road at a speed that while not technically legal was safely within the 15MPH buffer allowed by most Pennsylvania State Troopers.

Ahead was a geezer in a dump truck, waiting to turn onto the road. Our eyes met. He would yield right of way, I thought.

I thought wrong. With a rooster tail of gravel, he fishtailed onto the road and promptly slowed to a stately 20MPH. Apparently, his truck is like a cheetah and can only handle short bursts of speed while chasing down a gazelle, or cutting-off oncoming traffic.

Also apparent, is that fact that by waiting the additional five seconds to let me past, he would have been late to the dump; a social faux pas on the order of loudly proclaiming one’s virginity in the Kennedy compound.

Dump truck drivers have been turned into pumpkins for less.

So I got to enjoy an hour long sluggish trip through darkest Bucolia, bounded by a double yellow line to my left, ditch to my right and an open truck in front whose odor hinted at its past duties hauling fish guts, porcine manure and Carnival ride vomitus (now, with corn-dog bits!). One of these days, I really must get my window fixed.

Long story made bearable, when we finally got to a passing zone, the driver miraculously discovered what the skinny pedal was for.

And that, Your Honor, was why I had to borrow that manure spreader and fill his bedroom.

I am very sorry about the poodle.

And that's the way I likes it.