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Posts Tagged ‘traveling

Mysterious Highway Skid Marks

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Driving down the highway can be tiring. It doesn’t make sense, since you’re not really doing anything except sitting, but regardless, long trips seem to take it out of you. I’ve always had a theory that the reason for this is speed. You may not be moving your limbs using your muscles, but your body is traveling at the rate of speed equal to the car’s speed. Now unless you have been bitten by a radioactive, moon cricket and have been blessed with super powers, you’re probably not use to traveling at 60 to 80 miles an hour unassisted.


The other thing about traveling is that it’s rather boring or certainly can be. That’s why there’s all those great, yet mind boggling, desperate games like Alphabet, I-Spy, 20 Questions and countless others that were created by those that would rather spend 87 miles looking for an “X” than just riding in a car. If you happen to be “of the unfortunate nature” and find yourself traveling alone, it’s almost impossible not to fall inside you’re brain.


Before you know it, you’ve relived every fight, conversation, missed opportunity and pleasurable experience you’ve ever had. Once that’s over you begin to slip into the zombie-esque state of staring at things with blank face and empty mind.


You start to notice roadkill. Out of the corner of your eye you see a hawk take flight. Across the field you observe an abandon, near reclaimed by the earth farm house. You think to yourself, “I wonder who lived there. I bet they’re all dead.” Passing an out of business gas station you tease yourself about running out of gas, but you still check your gauge. Twice. It’s then that you see the first one.


It’s just a slight stain of black, somewhat faded, but noticeable to your now awaken road eyes. A few more miles whiz by and you pick up on two solid burn marks. As you continue down the road, more and more skid marks run across the road. This way and that way, to and fro, on the road, off the road, into oncoming traffic, and down into the ditch. What the hell happened on this road? What kind of carnage took place? Have you found the lost shooting location of Mad Max/Road Warrior? Nah couldn’t be. That was filmed in Australia. Holy smokes, did I drive all the way to Australia?


“Two days ago I saw a truck that could haul that tanker. You wanna get outta here? You talk to me.”


Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

March 20, 2009 at 3:54 am

Rest Stops: Created By Felons?

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I use to do a lot of traveling by car using the incredible and efficient highway system of this great country of ours. The last couple of trips I’ve taken have resulted in the using of a rest stop.


Just to be clear, (and I think we all know what a rest stop is but…) a rest stop is nothing more than a building with a male and female bathroom in it. Perhaps a vending machine or picnic tables, maybe even an area to “exercise” your dogs. The main ingredient of qualification is that it’s not manned by anyone, meaning there are no employed people overseeing its use. Which means it is fair game for the crazies.


I just got to tell you, rest stops scare the hell out of me. They’re the creepiest thing on earth. They always seem too far off the highway, behind trees or other obstructions and ghost-town vacant. All of them seem like the perfect place to commit an act of unspeakable carnage or an unimaginable, heinous crime.


I can’t believe the horror industry doesn’t use rest stops for a setting of “slasher” films, (if you exclude Rest Stop and Rest Stop 2).


In a world that’s scared of its own shadow, with piles of money being wasted by parking lots that can be seen from outer space, putting excessively bright light poles in every park and on every street corner, it’s amazing to see that these potential “houses of horror” still remain in use.


I believe that a bunch of ex-convicts, all of which having multiple felonies of a very colorful nature, got together and formed a “legit” business that focus solely on the commissioning and erecting of these places “predator playgrounds” so that they could use them for their future evil indulgences. Paranoid much?


OK, maybe I am being a little ridiculous. Perhaps I am basing this off of only a small handful of “run down” rest stops that I have visited. Maybe you know of some real classy ones, even prestigious or luxurious. I shouldn’t judge a rest stop by its cousins, just its smell, right? At the very least they’re good for selling drugs and midnight trucker love.


See you at mile marker 88 tonight?


Egg On!

Ramblin Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

January 5, 2009 at 4:37 am

Traveling Difficulties

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Traveling, for most of us, is an everyday occurrence. Whether it’s to the store for milk or to visit your cousins on the other side of the world, traveling is something we all have to do at some point in our life. So what’s the problem with traveling?

Some people might say it’s deciding where to go, what to do or when to travel. Others may say that budgeting for travel is difficult. For me, it’s getting out the door. Perhaps it’s my “last minute” lifestyle or a demonic curse that I picked up in the early nineties at a party or something. Either way, the act of getting out the door seems to be near impossible.

I do great packing. Not only am I light packer, but I possess a supernatural ability to place bags in a car to maximize the benefit of small spaces or to accommodate placing bags that that have a certain level of importance, (like a diaper bag, or the wife’s makeup bag, etc.). I’m awesome with directions and I almost always find where I’m going. If I do find myself lost or confused, I will ask for help or directions. I have never understood why some people feel that they’re above asking for directions. Maybe if it was because they were afraid of being told wrong directions on purpose I could understand, but I doubt that is the case for why those people can’t ask for help.

It just seems like I can never fully commit to thinking it’s alright to leave. I either think I need to try and go to the bathroom once more time, (because I am one of those psychos that hates stopping once I get going) that I’m forgetting something, that I should check something, (like did I leave the stove on boiling a live chicken?). I make multiple trips in and out of the house. I walk around aimlessly in the house. I stand still and pose in the thinking position. None of which ever yield anything. It’s not until I’m an hour away that I’ll remember that I forgot something.

I gotta go…

Egg On!

Ramblin’ Rooster

Written by Ramblin' Rooster

November 22, 2008 at 4:29 am