ehowton (ehowton) wrote,

  • Music:

4, 3, 2, 1

Earth below us
drifting falling
floating weightless
calling calling home...

So. We've heard me rant about left lane drivers as I traverse the Metroplex at sub-light speeds, and we've heard me bitch about the price of gas and the use thereof in my car. So, I married the two yesterday. Yes, I chose to conserve my expensive, precious full tank of gas on the way to Richardson yesterday by *gasp* actually driving the speed limit! Here's how it worked out: I started out in the far right-hand lane, with the cruise on 60 (the posted speed limit). Guess what? People don't actually do the posted speed limit in the far right hand lane. I had no idea. Furthermore, with all the traffic coming on, and people having an inexplicable need to brake as they exit, I found it was just easier to drive with the cruise control on in the left right-hand lane. I mean, how easy is this going to be? Save gas (read $$$) and let someone else do all the passing? I don't have to dodge, dip, duck, dive, traffic! How wonderfully relaxing. Only, left right-hand lane drivers aren't very consistent. They're constantly altering every possible vector. Tracking poorly, speeding up, slowing down. There's not a doubt in my mind that left right-hand lane drivers would adjust their altitude as well every few seconds, if possible. The only solution? Move over into the right left-hand lane of course. By this time I'm doing 75 (15 over the speed limit) and this wasn't exactly what I had in mind for a relaxing, gas saving drive. My adrenaline starts pumping, I sit up a little straighter, and tighten my hand on the gearshift. The Cav starts to growl. This is where her computer is used to setting the fuel/air mixture for the throttle. She knows what to do. People in the far left lane are doing 85. I can no longer do this. I must go. It pulls at me. Taking a deep breath, I check my rear-view, then side view mirror. When the car passes me, I look over my shoulder, indicate, and accelerate.

Was able to get about two and a half hours of broken sleep last night. Not one of my better stretches. Of course I'm high as a kite now, I'm sure I'll start sweating profusely and hallucinating as the day progresses, followed by clenched bowels and general irritation before barely making it to my next stopping point, passing out, and remaining unconscious for 11 hours. Well, you know the drill.

I keep a bag of Halls cough drops on my desk. I big bag. So did my boss, and my boss before him. But I keep them on my desk for an entirely different reason. When someone near me starts coughing, I give them about half a dozen hacks before snatch up two of them, and scream like a girl, "STOP IT! STOP IT!" and throw the Halls into the cubicle of the offending personage. Isn't life fun?
Tags: driving, sleep

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