I started my day in a way typical of this week by rising early to shovel. The first session was beautiful. Sun buried under the horizon, maybe itself fighting to shake off a blanket of snow, and only one neighbor, with a shovel, out.
The second session was later and more people were about. As I was finishing, I heard a loud voice. Rare, as people are either clearing snow from walks, drives and cars or low-rev motoring with windows up and heat blasting. Usually no speaking is required or offered. The voice said, and I substitute a few words for the sake of nothing, “and I have this car on my fracking ass… such a fracking asshole.”
The driver was justifiably miffed. She was driving at a reasonable pace based on the unplowed roads and the residential theme of the locale. Maybe ten feet behind her, playing blue angel pilot, was another traveler. So consistently close as I watched that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see the following vehicle chained to the first.
Twenty degrees and snow covered roads. No matter to the vocal motorist driving with her window down and conducting a cell phone conversation. A modern Marlboro woman, she was. Rather than call a friend to report the bad driving, why not pull over to let the stunt driver motor ahead? Then again, why drive at all (I can’t stop laughing at the bits 40 seconds in)?
Time for work.