Thursday, February 6, 2014

Send in the Clowns

Send in the Clowns


"You do know you're talking to yourself, ...right?"
"I'm talking to the guy in front of me!" I counter, justifying my sanity. "He's poking along at 50 in a 50km zone' I annoyingly state, with one hand on the wheel and the other tapping the horn. "Come on grandpa lets move it!"
"Good job grandpa (says the wife, as she reminds me that I have reproducing children) thats telling him. But if you really want him to hear you, you should turn off the radio, roll down the window, drive up alongside, stick your your head out and mention to the, and here I use your definition , circus performing Bozo, that you would like him to break the law by speeding so that you can get home to watch the news. Otherwise, you're just talking to yourself old man!
As much as I'd like to disagree with her she absolutely right. I do a lot of talking to the unhearing forces that determine traffic. Cars, and the Clowns who are suppose to be driving them. I talks to all makes of cars and trucks, imports and domestic, black or white, luxury or compact, If they happen to be on either side of me, in front of me or behind me, I strike up a one sided conversation. I guide them along in the tone of an annoyed parent of a four yr. old. I use words of direction like 'Come on let's get moving!' or 'Get off your brake and try the gas pedal!' 'Turn! Turn! Don't wait for the light to turn red before you go!' And with every direction I interject 'Ya Clown!' as they are the co-recipient of my timely advice. Male or female, black or white, tall or short everyone I submit my heated direction to is a circus adventurer of humour.
Its verbal direction in an annoyed (not mad, mad people do things. We who are annoyed just go home and bore the family with yet again another tirade) way that has kept the family from committing me to a home of the socially insane. People seem to accept people such as myself being annoyed, or upset with inanimate objects. I don't like the toaster reminding me its electric when I use my jam knife to free the toast. If they cause problems, we're going to let them know about it. There's more than just me out there raising my fist to the sky, screaming at the heavens a 'Thank you very much!' as your cars broken down at the side of the road or the jam knife's welded to the inside of the toaster.
If you ever talked lovingly to a car or toaster about how good they are and you're so proud of them for what there doing, then its off to the home with you. If your car's running great, I say treat it like an upset spouse and keep your mouth shut. If traffic is moving along and all the Clowns are right with the universe...whistle. Don't say encouraging things to the Clowns beside you, what ever you do. Cause that's when authorities start visiting the family and doctors appointments happen. Seems we can't be happy in traffic.
Old guys didn't get old by driving along distracted. We figured out long ago what all the traffic around us was doing and how we could do it better.
You should try it. Take my one week challenge and talk to the cars around you. If your worried people might think you're nuts, stuff a black piece of Play-dough in your ear and let them think it's part of your iPhone thingy (it's what i do). Tell that car in front of you when to turn. The one behind you to get off your bumper. Warn the Clown in front there's a pedestrian in the cross walk. You'll be a better driver. You'll be annoyed, but you'll be a better driver.
And you'd better get use to being annoyed because its a free gift that comes with age. Driving is just one way it manifests itself. How? Well let's start with, everything hurts! We've long past doing shoulder checks, and sitting in some crappy 25 yr. old Buick for more than five minutes produces squeaking and leaking from both parties.
It's annoying. About as annoying as Richmond giving out more tickets for Clowns illegally parking in the handicapped space than any other city in the lower mainland! "When did the handicap symbol become the very expensive parking near the door symbol?"
"Are you talking to me?" the wife questions as she sticks her head from the kitchen.
"No, I'm talking to the TV! I can't believe the story on the news about all the parking tickets. Clowns parking illegally!"
"You do know you're talking to yourself, ....right?"

Bob Niles

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