of motorcycle cops, mink coats and blue haired drivers

Posted: July 18, 2011 in Uncategorized

      Yesterday was a travel day for me. I got up early, packed my bags in a rush, fortified my castle and off I went on my six hour journey. Truth is I abhor driving. It’s not that I dislike traveling per say, an eight hour train journey; great, a six hour flight; wonderful, but driving truly brings out the worst in me. I’m generally not a crazed homicidal maniac, but something about getting behind the wheel seems to transform me into a lunatic. Selfishness and hypocrisy while generally not prevalent in my everyday life seem to be common place on the highway. The speeding maniac attracts my ire just as readily as the blue haired lady who doesn’t seem to understand that although the sign says maximum speed, the universally accepted interpretation is that this is indeed a minimum. I pass other drivers who are driving one km slower than I wish to travel and yet shake my head in disgust at the impatient driver who rides my bumper. I know these to all be silly emotions, but I just can’t seem to help it. It has not completely escaped my understanding that maybe I’m just an asshole.

       Anyway, moving on, I saw a motorcycle cop today for the first time in what seems like ages. I’ve always thought of them as an undervalued branch of those highway heroes sworn to protect us. These leather clad cowboys with their shining helmets and dark sunglasses riding upon their steel and chrome stallions, brings on emotions that can only be evoked through such poetic imagery. Why are there so few of these dazzling daredevils? Is motorcycle riding becoming a lost art form? Doesn’t seem to be the case. Is it becoming too expensive to employ them? Can’t see why, the cost of the bike has to be less than a car and the operation must be way cheaper. It has to be something else. Hmm, is it truly possible that the homosexual portrayal of a motorcycle cop by the Village People has embarrassed the police into shying away from their use? Nah, homophobia in the police force, I think not. In any case to make a long story short the said policeman was in the process of punishing another evil doer and failed to notice I was driving well in excess of the posted limit.

      Although I’ve said I hate driving, I still take great care in paying attention to the road. Whether it be a pot hole, a construction worker, or a small child, I’m almost always able to avoid them. I tend to have a keen eye for things that stand out; a twenty dollar bill on the side of the road; a gold ring lying in the sand at the beach; a mink coat sitting in the middle of the road. A what? There it was, a mink coat sitting in the middle of the road. Unfortunately (for the mink) it still had a mink attached to it. Now I know what you’re thinking, how could a mink still attached to it fur coat be unfortunate for the mink? The problem was the mink and its fur coat were both attached to the road. My first thought was how such a mishap befell this poor creature. Did it fail to look both ways? Mink are usually such clever creatures. Perhaps it was overcome by the heat and decided to end its life? What was it thinking wearing a fur coat anyway at this time of the year, what a silly creature? In the end I just decided good riddance to the fucking thing, I mean doesn’t it know that wearing a mink coat is cruel.

      So here lies the end of the beginning of my rather mundane tale of my drive through the great Canadian wilderness. If you haven’t already hung yourself out of shear boredom from the monotony of this story, please hang in for the next instalment, FAST FOOD MECCA(rn).

  1. Coram says:

    hahahahaha this one made me laugh . a lot . 😀 s’good xx