Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Hunting Season

Since some of the people I work with (for?) have an office in Hartford, I must travel to the eighth circle of hell in order to do my job (a term I use loosely). For those unfamiliar, this means I must travel the wild, untamed highways of I-90 - known as the Mass Pike around these here parts - and I-84, which I not-so-affectionately call 'Highway To Hell' since it leads straight into downtown Hartford.

Yesterday during my travels I spotted some native species that have grown and flourished on these highways and byways. You may recognize some of these from your neck of the woods, but rest assured, the wildlife vary from state to state.

Behold the natives. Try not to make a sound for they will probably flip you the bird and speed off before you can respond. They're wily and rude.

The Weaver: I saw a fantastic one yesterday. It was red and kept changing lanes so often it almost clipped the same tractor trailer truck twice. I tracked this cutie for almost 10 miles, before she took the 495 exit. In that time she dodged and sped and weaved her way amongst the other species at a relentless pace. Funny thing about the weavers, they never seem to make up much ground. Indeed, this one got herself boxed in and I laughed and waved as I passed her by. She didn't disappoint, though, soon zipping her way past after a few minutes.

Typical Weavers are usually impatient, but cruelly, have very poor decision making skills. In the ten miles I tracked this particular weaver, she managed to get only 7-8 cars in front of me.

The Tailgater: What I consider the most dangerous of all the highway wild life in the area and, alarmingly, they are increasing in numbers and ferocity. What is disturbing about the Tailgater is the way they sneak up on you. You can be cruising along at 75 when suddenly there is another face in your backseat. Only it's the guy in the car behind you who following you so close it just appears he's in your backseat. In reality, he's in your trunk. For whatever reason, these tend to flock together in bunches and may have some sort of NASCAR fantasy they're acting out behind you.

Typical Tailgaters are usually angry looking and most likely are trying to compensate for having a small penis. Or, if the Tailgater is female, failing to live up to Daddy's expectations.

The Road Runner: This is the car that goes by you at twice your speed. Doesn't matter how fast you are driving, this one will easily double it. While at times similar to the Tailgater, the main difference is you see this one coming from miles behind you. It's that red or black blur that catches your eye when you're trying to find the best track on a new CD. It can also mimic the behavior of the Weaver, but only when absolutely necessary.

Road Runner's are usually younger and will have a very short life expectancy.

The Highbeamer: Another one that is easy to spot. This is the one that flashes it's lights at you, even though you are traveling at 80 miles per hour. The Highbeamer doesn't realize that I would probably move over more quickly for it if it just practiced patience and wasn't a fucking pompous ass.

Typical Highbeamer has superiority complex. This means he thinks he owns the road.

The Pullover: Most pity the pullover, but this species provides a beneficial service to the rest of the wildlife. By diverting the attention of the police officer (code name Lion), it frees the rest of us to speed on by with little worry and marks the speed traps for later trips.

Typical Pullover is African American. This is especially true in Connecticut.

The Confused: Can be the more dangerous of all the species roaming the highways. They become conspicuous at every major interchange. When I-90 meets 495 or 95, you best beware. They swerve unexpectedly, then change their minds and swerve back, only to finally pull out of a crowd and dart away.

The Confused are unpredictable, often spontaneous and are prime candidates for GPS.

The Moron: I unexpectedly and horrifically encountered a Moron coming onto the Mass Pike yesterday morning. I came around the bend of the ramp leading onto (this is important) the Pike. Here two lanes come together and merge onto the highway. I looked over my shoulder and, after finding no traffic oncoming proceeded to accelerate. Only as I come further around the bend (there is a high wall blocking the view) here is a Moron at a DEAD STOP in the middle of the road. I don't know if this particular Moron was part Confused, but there was nowhere for him to go but straight anyway, so stopping only put him and anyone behind him in harm's way.

Typical Moron lacks basic common sense and will probably kill many people in his or her lifetime.

The Braker: Everyone's seen the braker at one time or another. They apparently have one extra foot that is constantly hitting the brakes of the vehicle, making everyone else behind them think there is something wrong and, in turn, causing them to brake. This causes a 'fake traffic jam' until everyone gets the hell away from the problem driver.

Typical Braker is over 50 years of age and drives an SUV that averages about 3 miles per gallon. This makes the braker more effective since you can't see past or over it.

The Turtle: In many ways the turtle can be more dangerous than the Road Runner, causing near misses and hang ups when other species traveling at average speeds realize there is someone moving at 30 miles per hour. Ideally, Turtles should stay on the far right lane (preferably the breakdown lane or off the highway altogether), but can often be found in the middle lanes while others swerve and swear around them.

Turtles are oblivious to others around them and are usually 75-120 years of age.

The Asshole: Closely related to the Highbeamer, this fellow is distinguished by the choice of car. Usually found in the comfort of BMWs, Audis, Mercedes Benz', or high end SUVs like Land Rover or Lincoln Navigators. Often blends in with the Road Runners, as well.

Typical Asshole is middle aged, businessmen who think they are more important than they really are.

Despite all the hazards and predators out there, I will continue to travel the wild roads of America. Maybe next time I'll take my hunting gear.

Today's distraction: Practice your racing skills in a rural area. Takes a bit of getting used to, but it becomes fun once you get the hang of it. Turn your volume down if you're at work.