Hello, my name is Stu. Today my gripe is about truck drivers who give interviews to the newspaper. And then, the newspapers publish this so called interview. First of all, your opinion is one sided and it's wrong. Your opinion does not align with mine. Your words and thoughts are based on feelings and emotions.
You claim that the traffic back-ups on roads are caused by cars not tucks. HAH. Your statement about being able to look down into a car is disturbing. We all know why you look down into cars and it is not to see us using our cell phones. Saying all car drivers use their cell phones while driving is bunk - absolute bunk. Maybe you don't have a cell phone but you got that there CB radio hooked to your lips. Telling all the other truckers to slow down - radar ahead or a beaver in a red sports car. Yep you were looking down again.
Then, you have the nerve to complain because some states make you drive in the right hand lane. If I was in charge of that state I would make you'all travel elsewhere - like another country. You belong in the slow lane.
What really causes the back-ups on the highway is when two trucks travel side- by- side - uphill on a two lane highway. Can anyone in a car get by? No! And the speed you are traveling side-by-side - uphill is well below the speed limit.
Tires, tires - shredded all along our major and minor roads. These are truck tires not CAR tires and we have to swerve to miss the sometimes large objects. The county, state or local government has to pay someone to clean up after you. Why can't you clean up after yourself? Or volunteer to adopt a highway.
So, don't be pointing the finger at cars for causing back-ups and traffic delays. Car drivers really know who the culprits are in traffic delays and congestion.
10-4 good buddy,
Mr. Pid
Showing posts with label speed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label speed. Show all posts
Friday, December 28, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Daily Gripe
Hello, my name is Stu. Today my gripe is once again before the event. I know it will happen so I will spout off now. Traffic construction - on roadways. This construction or lack there-of sometimes - always – always - takes place on the roads that I travel. Why is this?
I will see the sign, “Right lane closed 1,000 feet ahead." The flags, the orange cones line the shoulder. I budged over into the left lane. Cars and TRUCKS go barreling down the almost empty right lane. And here I am clogged in the slow moving responsible lane. Traffic in my lane moving slower than a snails pace: speeding vehicles in the right lane making tracks leaving me in the wake of their dust. I love those signs in the water –No Wake Zone. People always obey that sign. Minutes turn into frustrating eons as cars on the right still speed by. Why am I still in the left lane?
So, I go for broke and ease over into the right lane. I have broken free, spit at the rules and followed my own destiny. INSTANTLY. The right lane is blocked by orange cones and signs. What happened to all those speeders? It’s almost as if it was a mirage. Perhaps I was hallucinating. Did I really see all those cars rolling past me? Now here I am STUCK in the black hole of travel construction. No one absolutely no one will let me budge back in. Time is like watching water boil on a turned off stove. A lesson learned well.
A few miles down the road in another state the signs appear again. The orange cones are striking against the bleak roadside scenery. This time I will stay in the proper lane: for miles upon miles if necessary. The sun begins to dip behind the horizon of stopped traffic. Cars fly by in the right hand lane like demons from the deathly hallows. Did I tell the hotel I may be a late arrival? Will they give my room away to one of the demon drivers in the right hand lane? I would call to verify but my cell phone is dead and the car charger has been missing for weeks.
Darkness floats across the quiet highway. I hate driving at night. My contacts turn the night lights into a festival New Year’s celebration. I can’t take them out as I left my contact case packed in my luggage. I can’t toss them out the window as I only brought one pair. I am always so prepared for life.
My stomach growls in protest. I see the exit sign and feel some relief. I ease over into the right hand lane to make my turn. And where oh where is – was that construction? I sat patiently in that lane with gazillions of other responsible road warriors - for WHAT? You stopped construction at noon and never took down those &*@#%^& signs. There should be a law against such abuse.
Forever in my pure thoughts,
Mr. Pid
I will see the sign, “Right lane closed 1,000 feet ahead." The flags, the orange cones line the shoulder. I budged over into the left lane. Cars and TRUCKS go barreling down the almost empty right lane. And here I am clogged in the slow moving responsible lane. Traffic in my lane moving slower than a snails pace: speeding vehicles in the right lane making tracks leaving me in the wake of their dust. I love those signs in the water –No Wake Zone. People always obey that sign. Minutes turn into frustrating eons as cars on the right still speed by. Why am I still in the left lane?
So, I go for broke and ease over into the right lane. I have broken free, spit at the rules and followed my own destiny. INSTANTLY. The right lane is blocked by orange cones and signs. What happened to all those speeders? It’s almost as if it was a mirage. Perhaps I was hallucinating. Did I really see all those cars rolling past me? Now here I am STUCK in the black hole of travel construction. No one absolutely no one will let me budge back in. Time is like watching water boil on a turned off stove. A lesson learned well.
A few miles down the road in another state the signs appear again. The orange cones are striking against the bleak roadside scenery. This time I will stay in the proper lane: for miles upon miles if necessary. The sun begins to dip behind the horizon of stopped traffic. Cars fly by in the right hand lane like demons from the deathly hallows. Did I tell the hotel I may be a late arrival? Will they give my room away to one of the demon drivers in the right hand lane? I would call to verify but my cell phone is dead and the car charger has been missing for weeks.
Darkness floats across the quiet highway. I hate driving at night. My contacts turn the night lights into a festival New Year’s celebration. I can’t take them out as I left my contact case packed in my luggage. I can’t toss them out the window as I only brought one pair. I am always so prepared for life.
My stomach growls in protest. I see the exit sign and feel some relief. I ease over into the right hand lane to make my turn. And where oh where is – was that construction? I sat patiently in that lane with gazillions of other responsible road warriors - for WHAT? You stopped construction at noon and never took down those &*@#%^& signs. There should be a law against such abuse.
Forever in my pure thoughts,
Mr. Pid
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