Originally posted by robtcorl Racer loves snow, or did.
Still do.
Been slugging it out every morning just to get up to the county road, then the state highway, another state highway, a US highway, the interstate, another state highway, then wiggle my way through the compound around the Big Shed.
Then I reverse the order at 1:30 and make the 32 mile journey back to Paradise by the River.
Each day (even when it isn't snowing) at least one, and often many, idiots demonstrate their "excellent" driving skills.
Today was no exception.
I had made my way to the first state highway, and had settled in behind a group of drivers led by one of these highly skilled drivers who really should have stayed home. The conditions were compact snow and ice, but the plows had graded and sanded, so about 40 miles an hour was safely doable.
He was poking along at 20 or 25.
Not wanting to get involved in an accident I was hanging behind about 20 car lengths or so, but I was keeping pace with them. All the others were bumper to bumper.
Awesome display of skill.
I leave extra early in anticipation of these events, so it didn't bother me much.
Suddenly I realized that a Mensa member was bearing down on me. Flashing his headlights he soon was on my back bumper. Then he started blowing his horn, and continued flashing the high beams. Then I couldn't see his headlights.
That is way too close.
I waited for the bump, but somehow Mr. Mensa managed to not hit me.
Such skill.
Soon we arrived at the intersection of one state highway and the next, a T intersection where most traffic turns left to head towards the city. It is a double lane left turn, and I didn't quite get there before the light changed, and had to stop.
Mr. Mensa pulled up on my right and rolled his window down, flipping me off and letting all that intelligence spew forth from his pie hole.
I ignored him.
The light turned green, and he mashed the pedal of his little clapped out front wheel drive pile of junk.
I eased the clutch out, and managed the all wheel drive goodness of my Legacy wagon, and left Mr. Mensa slipping and sliding. I managed to get up to about 40 and was happily rolling along, with no one around me.
About a mile or so along here he comes, at a speed somewhere near the rotation velocity of a Jumbo Jet, and as he goes by he swerves over my way, then cuts in front of me, tapping his brakes. I was ready, and had already lifted on the throttle. He nearly lost it, but somehow managed to gather it back up and continue on.
I fully expected to see this highly skilled maroon in the ditch somewhere along the way, but fate disappointed me.
There ain't no justice.
Of course there were a few more idiots along the way, but again, I gave plenty of time for the journey, and did my best to leave plenty of room around me so if stuff was about to get ugly I would be able to go around it and make it to work in time.