Driving while...

I have started a new Master's program to get my MA in Teaching, with a concentration in secondary English. My first class is about inclusive classrooms, and as a summer class it packs a lot of information into a short amount of time. Unfortunately I got behind on my audio lectures that are stored in an online classroom. My first test is today, and I still have 4.5 hours of lecture that I have not heard. However, I have managed to read all the reading materials.

Last night my sister suggested that I listen to the lectures on the way to and from work. That would be two hours of lecture that I could combine with time spent doing nothing else (other than driving safely). In her opinion, it would be just like listening to the radio.

I had to think about that for a while, because honestly I could do that with my laptop on the way to work. How I would take notes while I was driving would be a challenge that only a good imagination and ingenuity could overcome, but listening to the lectures was perfectly reasonable.

That is when I tried to picture myself in my car, listening to the lecture, and somehow taking notes. I have heard of a lot of people doing things while driving - putting on makeup, eating, talking on the phone, texting, doing their hair, and even changing their clothes, but I have yet to hear of someone taking a class while driving.

Honestly, I have actually tried to study on the way to an exam in my car. I would keep my notebook in my lap or on the seat next to me and look at it at stop signs and stop lights, but listen to a class? I don't think I have the ability to concentrate, understand, and retain information while I am also driving that would make it a worth while endeavor.

My inability to multitask in this manner, or admitting that I am a poor auditory learner, fit in well with the course content on learning disabilities. In this case, I do not have the superior abilities needed to succeed.

CDOUGDIG

I was running late this morning and did not get to take a cup of coffee from home to enjoy on the way to work. As a result, I stopped off at a Bruegger's Bagel shop in order to get a good cup of reasonably priced coffee. On my way out of the shopping center in which it was located, I saw a vanity plate that got my attention: CDOUGDIG.

My first thought was - Hey Doug, all I'm seeing you do is drive, not dig. Honestly, Doug, in your white Tacoma pick-up truck, who is ever going to be able to read your vanity plate while you are actually digging - or whatever else you may mean by that? Seems a little silly if you ask me, but I know, you didn't.

Maybe next time you should.

From this moment on, I am available to review your vanity plate choices and tell you which ones are funny, interesting, and worthy; and which ones are best left in your head and not on your bumper. Please submit your choices to me for comment by commenting on any of my blog entries, and I'll be sure to respond.

The motto for my vanity plate review service:

Review to avoid looking like a fool - otherwise, car-pool.

NEED NAP

I saw this vanity plate on the way to work: NEED NAP. I couldn't agree more.

Crash

On the way home from work yesterday, I witnessed a fender bender. There was quite a bit of traffic, and you could only advance in short spurts. In the lane next to me, a car ran right into the back of a stationary SUV. I had already stopped, waiting for my lane to move forward, and was looking for vanity plates to read. The SUV was about 15 feet away from me and I happened to be looking at its plate when a black car plowed into the back of it. The driver couldn't have been going more than 15 miles an hour, but he didn't even brake before hitting the SUV. He must not have been looking in front of him at all.

I turned to see what he was doing, and he was looking down into his lap. He seemed unmoved by the accident. The hood of his car was raised and crunched in and his grill and bumper majorly damaged. I was surprised by how much damage his car had sustained in such a low speed collision. The SUV seemed fine with the exception of its hitch. That was hanging by a thread after the accident.

My lane started moving again after the SUV managed to pull over to the inner shoulder of the road. I watched the black car sit in the lane in my rear view mirror for a while. I'm not sure what the driver was doing, but he wasn't moving his car out of the way of traffic.

I thought about pulling over to be a witness of the accident, but as all rear end collisions are the fault of the car in the back, I figured that I wouldn't be needed.

It was a strange experience.

On E

I can imagine that 30 years ago it was probably relatively easy to run out of gas, especially when you think of the gas shortage of the 70's, but what about today? Can any American have a valid excuse for running out of gas these days? (with the exception of my husband who's fuel gauge is broken)

Yesterday I witnessed someone on the side of the road filling the tank of their white BMW station wagon with a gas can. It appeared that someone in a green Ford had given them a lift back to their car.

Honestly, you ran out of gas in a BMW? Not only should it have a gas light to tell you when your tank is getting low, but it is sure to have some computerized voice that informs you in grammatically perfect English that, "Your fashionable European vehicle needs to be refueled in exactly 54.26 miles from the black and white, Grade B dairy cow that you are scheduled to pass on this country road in approximately 3.5 seconds."


It is my belief that you must either be a legally blind and deaf BMW driver, or you're an idiot in an expensive car. I think only the later could get a driver's license, so there you are - an idiot.

Siting: The Million Dollar Man!

That's right, guys, I saw the Million Dollar Man while commuting to work this morning. No, not the Six Million Dollar Man from the 1974 TV show, but the Million Dollar Man - completely different. Who is the Million Dollar Man, you might ask. Well, let me tell you.

The Million Dollar Man was a professional wrestler from Texas or Arizona that hit his wrestling peak in the late 80's and early 90's with the WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment (formerly the WWF - World Wrestling Federation). Today he is a motivational speaker and evangelist.

How did I see the Million Dollar Man? Well, it was rather easy. I was driving along I-40, like I do every work day morning, when a white minivan merged in front of me from an on-ramp. And there it was! The vanity plate that said it all: MILLN$MAN.

So, honestly, I didn't see him in person, but I saw what must obviously be his white minivan, right?

Amazing. Celebrity vehicle siting on the way to work. How lucky am I?

Rain Music

My husband left his CD in my car from the weekend. It's a mix of different songs including Townes Van Zandt, Old Crow Medicine Show, and Drive-By Truckers.

One of my favorite songs on the CD is by Ryan Adams - Damn, Sam (I Love a Woman That Rains). It seemed very appropriate for this morning with the rain, and it just has a wonderful melancholy sound that reverberates best with gray skies and damp coolness.

Ryan Adams : Damn, Sam (I Love a Woman That Rains)

As a man I ain't never been much for sunny days
I'm as calm as a fruit stand in New York and maybe as strange
But when the color goes out of my eyes, it's usually the change

But damn, Sam, I love a woman that rains

Clear as a bell, and sound as an old engineer
Clear as a bell, and sound as an old engineer
With talented breezes that blow off your hat with a sneer
As a man I've never been much for talking to
I'm as open as the door in her house that leads to her room
And when the color goes out of my eyes, she's usually too

But damn, Sam, I love a woman that's blue

As a man I ain't never been much for sunny days
I'm as calm as a fruit stand in New York and maybe as strange
But when the color goes out of my eyes, it's usually the change

But damn, Sam, I love a woman that rains

You should be able to listen to the song at Lyrics Mode. I highly recommend it.

Early

20080925_P1020897_time i've got by jaycobs

I managed to get out of the house this morning when I was supposed to, around 6:30. The drive into work was traffic free and blissful. The perfect start to a Friday.

While I tell myself every work day morning that I need to leave the house by 6:30, more often than not I am getting out of bed at 6:30 instead of walking out the door. I was able to leave on time for the first few weeks when I started my commute, but gradually I left later and later. Now I'm lucky if I get into work before 8:30.

This morning I left on time, but for me....

I was early.

Mirrors

Borrowed from Katherine Finch.

I must be a horrible driver; I never use my mirrors.

I was merging this morning onto the interstate and was warned by a honking horn that someone was in my blind spot. I was glad that they were paying attention. Before I merge I always try to check my blind spot, or at least what I can see of it over my shoulder, and this time was no exception. However, I missed them completely during my pre-merging check of the next lane.

I tried to think about how I use my mirrors while I'm driving, and was shocked to realize that I hardly ever use them. Am I alone is this? Does anyone else constantly check their mirrors?

To be honest, I do use my rearview mirror on occasion when someone is tailgating me - which drives me insane. Other than that, I'm not much of a mirror user. I would rather turn and look for myself to either side.

Perhaps I should start using them more. It felt bad to be the moronic merger this morning.

Retro Vision

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live in the late 19th Century, or even the beginning of the 20th. Besides being fascinated by the clothing and the ornamental roles of women in that era, I wonder what it would be like not to have a car.

I drive an hour each morning to work. What would I be doing if I couldn't do that? What would my life be like without the freedom to get in the car and go wherever I want to?

In a way, I believe that there would be a few benefits. For one, I love horses. I lived on a farm for eight months where I got to feed horses and muck out stalls. I enjoyed every moment of it. In fact, if I could clean stalls for a comfortable living I am almost positive that I would change career tracts instantly.

Beyond the horses, there is the idea that you would have to walk more places. I love walking, and while it is not always such a great thing in the middle of 90 degree weather, it is an enjoyable way to get around. I used to walk miles a day when I lived in Boston. Granted, I did take the "T" (subway) on many occasions, but often I would just walk where I wanted to go. Walking allows you time to look at things along the way, think, and decompress. That is one of the reasons that I miss living in Boston.

Walking and horses are a great draw for me to an era without cars. There are so many romantic views of that time that often I am caught up in seeing things in an unrealistic way. However, my solid background in history allows me to cast off those fantasies and imagine the time as it was for those living in it. It would be a hard way to live if I kept my current social status based on income. I would not be wealthy, but neither would I be poor by any means. I would be in a merchant class where there was enough money for a few luxuries, but not enough to make life easy.

Even with my informed view of the time, I still yearn for it on occasion. Sometimes I imagine having a very difficult life, but one that had more solid meaning. Meaning in our lives these days is so intangible and fleeting. And perhaps that is the whole impetus behind these yearnings.

I'm searching for meaning.

NINEBALL

The nine ball is a happy yellow-striped billiard ball; it is also an enjoyable game. I have never been a good pool player - I am an early eight ball player (completely by accident) and therefore lose. This morning I was reminded of this long neglected pastime by a yellow Miata with a black hood. It's vanity plate capitalized on the color of the car and it's sporty nature. It read: NINEBALL.

I now have the worst urge to run off to a pool hall, rack up a game, have a beer, and smoke a few cigarettes. I have a hard time playing pool without drinking or smoking, which is probably why I will not run off to the pool hall anytime soon.

What I need is a pool table at home. My husband would love one - I would love one. Ok, new item for the completely unnecessary home improvement items list.

Thanks, Mr. NINEBALL. This is all your fault.

Lost

I have a good sense of direction. People call me when they want to know where they are and how to get where they want to go. My friend K in Boston has even called me since I moved back to NC to get directions. I am often seen as a personal navigational system. My ex, D, would often call for my help when lost. He had no sense of direction and used to say that his Zebra was broken, an imaginary navigation system.

I am constantly expanding the maps within my head. When I go a different way to get to a familiar place, I am often able to fill in once blank sections of my internal map. I love the Aha! moments that occur when I can connect streets and link thoroughfares in my head.

Despite my sense of direction, I can still get lost - in my head. This morning I called my husband while driving to work because I had remembered something to remind him about. I knew that he would never remember to do it today if I didn't call. Opening my cell, hitting the speed dial number, pressing send and getting my husband on the phone took only a minute. I began speaking - "I just wanted to remind you that..." - and suddenly I was lost. What had I wanted to say? What was I supposed to remind him about? I felt ridiculous. I forgot what I didn't want him to forget in a span of less than two minutes. Pathetic.

Zach tried to come up with things that he might need to be reminded of, but no guess was right. In the end, I told him that I would call him as soon as I remembered. I hung up the phone and remember not 5 seconds later. Ridiculous and bizarre!

My mind is on the fritz; a computer with a sporadic short. I blame the rain, and you know how I feel about rain.

MYMILK$$

How much money would you say that a Porsche Boxster costs? Hmm?

I know that it is more than I will ever be able to spend on a car. And yet yesterday I saw a man with the most amazing vanity plate on his green Boxter - MYMILK$$. The questions that this raises for me are:

1) Who is giving you milk money, and can they support me too?
2) Did you steal the milk money of thousands of other kids to afford this car?
3) How much does milk cost where you are buying it? ( because I swear you are getting ripped off)
4) Since you have spent your milk money on a car, how many years did you go without any milk?

The plate was clever and funny, but it left me with a bad taste in my mouth...rather like sour milk.

Yes, I am jealous.

Morning Radio Shows

On an hour commute in the morning, sometimes the need for a distraction from focusing on fellow commuters, accidents, license plates, and the weather is solved by listening to the radio. Music can really help pass the time and soften raw nerves. On the other hand, most radio stations play the same thing over and over again and I get tired of it. I also tend to play my CDs over and over again until I get tired of them. When your music selection is limited, then music is not always the answer.

Most mornings I either commute in silence, thinking things over and having preparatory conversations in my head, or I listen to a morning radio show. The only radio show that I listen to is Bob and The Showgram. These guys are rather crazy, but extremely entertaining.

This morning they had mother's read from their children's diaries/journals in order to win a pair of tickets to the upcoming New Kids On The Block concert. The mother who read the funniest entry on the air was the winner. One woman read her 10 year old son's journal that contrasted sharply with the diaries of the 10 and 11 year old girls. He talked about wanting to discover and name a planet that had volcanoes on it the size of continents; the girls talked about boys. The ultimate winner was an entry where the daughter had heard her parents in the bedroom and was confused about what was going on. It was rather funny.

I'm not sure that I would invade the privacy of my child and read their diary/journal entries on the air to get a pair of NKOTB tickets. I was about 9 when the popularity of these guys was in full swing during '89-'90, and I can remember my best friend being in love with them while I could not care less. I have never been a fan of boy bands. I have never really been a "big fan" of any sort. I enjoy music and like to go to concerts, but I was never the type to collect pictures, buy t-shirts, get things signed, send fan mail/e-mail, or read their websites. I support my chosen favorites by occasionally buying their CDs, and that is it.

I am unaffected by the thrill of obsession when it comes to famous people. There are many famous people that I would like to meet, but on most occasions I imagine running into them somewhere and pretending that I have no idea who they are. I want to interact with them, see who they are in person, and not have the giddiness factor intrude. I am a fan of the unfan movement I suppose.

So there you are, famous people, you are safe with me. If I admire you in some way, then I might get excited about meeting you - which means you are probably an author - otherwise, I could take you or leave you.

Rain

I love the rain. The smell, the sound, the feel, and the way the light changes that creates a world that I can't get enough of when it rains.

Rain Stroll by jaxting

Rainy days require mackintoshes and galoshes for sploshing and splashing, or bright umbrellas to swing, twirl, and dance beneath.

Umbrella Love... by Hyena in Petticoats

Rainy days are meant to be enjoyed from home with a book and your favorite snack.

Rain in Casa Iguana I by Krevende Kranier

No one should have to work on rainy days.

Sigh.

Accidental Lingering

Accidents happen. When it rains, snows, or the wind blows; someone always loses control. One to three vehicles might actually be physically part of the incident, but hundreds are involved vicariously. These vicarious hundreds are struck by horrible cases of "Rubber Neck" Syndrome.

"Rubber Neck" Syndrome is a horrid affliction brought on by the proximity of a vehicular accident. As long as the vehicular accident is within sight, victims of "Rubber Neck" seem incapable of escaping the clutches of the disease. "Rubber Neck" Syndrome, which will now be referred to as RBNS, is by far the most common communicable disease. It affects people more often than the common cold and flu combined. The danger of this disease is that one can catch RBNS, recover, and then get it again not ten minutes later. It is possible to suffer from RBNS innumerable times in one day as exposure depends on the occurrence of vehicular accidents in the immediate vicinity.

RBNS is exhibited by the following symptoms: immediate turning of the head to one side followed by temporary paralysis of the neck muscles, loss of coordination in the right foot with the inability to flex or point the foot, muscular spasms in the left foot and leg which result in sporadic stomping motions, loss of muscle tension in the face causing the jaw to drop, and impaired cognition or the inability to concentrate and multitask. RBNS attacks immediately after an accident has been sighted, and can catch the victim completely off guard. As the disease lasts only as long as the accident is visible in direct or peripheral vision, victims often start recovering before they recognize the attack has even occurred.

Scientists and traffic reporters have been unable to find a cure, or even a means to protect the commuting public from the onset of RBNS. No progress is recorded from field studies examining the characteristics of the disease. If researchers could uncover a means to avoid the contraction of RBNS by commuters exposed to vehicular accidents, the morning and evening commute might be traffic free in the future.

Perhaps if the Department of Transportation considered RBNS a dangerous epidemic and provided funding for further research, then a cure or preventive measures might be discovered. However, who can count on the DOT for anything?

So, my fellow commuters, be careful during inclement weather. If you feel that you have suffered from RBNS, or can provide first hand observations on others suffering from the disease, then please contact the Infections During Incident Originating Traffic in Imbecilic Commuters (IDIOTIC) Association. Your help in preventing or finding a cure for RBNS would be greatly appreciated!

Yes, we can!

KSNCUSIN

What is a "kissing cousin" exactly? I've heard that phrase all my life, and yet I cannot provide a solid definition. Does it refer to people that fall in love with their cousins? Are they people that marry their cousins? Are they just very close family members?

Amazingly enough, the internet does not necessarily solve this conundrum as definitively as I would desire. One definition says that it has a literal meaning - cousins that kiss when they greet each other. Another refers to cousins that marry each other.

When the meaning for this phrase is rather ambiguous depending on your background or personal definition of the phrase, why would anyone put this on their license plate?

Ms. Silver VW Convertible, did you marry your cousin? Do you like to kiss your cousins when you meet them? Are you secretly in love with one of your cousins? Are you an only child who has cousins that have become like your brothers or sisters? Why have you informed everyone that you are a "kissing cousin"? What does it mean to you?

Your license plate, KSNCUSIN, has served to raise questions rather than share a bit of personal information. You were sitting there with the top down. I should have rolled down the window and shouted a question your way: Why are you a kissing cousin?

I guess that I shall never know. You must be the wrong kind of "kissing cousin" because you have tortured me with questions I will never get the answers to. You must have married your cousin. Worse than that, you must have married your first cousin. How could you? (on both counts)

Poppies

Every morning and evening of this past week, I have seen the most glorious vision of red. On the rise of a grassy median that separates the US70 Bypass, there is a stretch of blooming wildflowers. The crimson heads of the poppies dominate the scene.

"Monet's poppy field, Giverny" by Debbie G - borrowed from her photostream on Flickr

I wish that I could stop and gather some of the poppies to take them home with me, but then I would mar the roadside scene that I have come to look forward to and luxuriate in the passing beauty for the full minute that it is in sight.

The scene always makes me think of Monet's 1873 painting, Poppies, Near Argenteuil.


I love that painting. It is one where I would love the ability to just walk onto the scene that it captures so well.

The poppies cheer me on the way to work, and cheer me on the way home. They are currently the highlight of my commute. I don't know how I'll recover from loosing their delightful impact on my normally dreary drive when they have eventually lost their bloom.

A simple wild treasure that can change your view of the world - crimson poppies.