Nothing to See Here…

Mostly, I carpool with my husband but this week, because of circumstances waaaay beyond my control, we’re playing divide-and-conquer with regard to watching the little 2 year old and the big 74 year old who broke his ankle.  So I’ve had the chance to commute alone.  Just me and my overactive imagination in that car.  Barreling at 75MPH down the highway in a 2 ton vehicle with so very much on my mind…. You might even want to avoid the highways that take me to and from work.

So last night, I was driving home and I was convinced there was a truck driver conspiracy going on.  I started imagining the meeting… it would be sort of like that club that Fred and Barney used to belong to, remember that?  The Secret Society of Water Buffalo or something?  Oh, who knows… some testosterone-laden meeting with beer and bawdy jokes and inappropriate guffaws and a secret hand-shake and serving wenches in low cut tops.  (Did I miss any stereotypes at all?  No, I didn’t think so.)

I think it would go something like this….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mack:  Here, here.  This month’s meeting of the Super Secret Society of Big Rig Truckers is called to order.  Listen up, men.  We have business to conduct here.  Butch, as the secretary, it’s your job to read off the minutes and actions from the last meeting.

(manly giggles)

Mack:  (hitting gavel on podium)  Alright, alright.  Are you morons going to laugh at that EVERYTIME?  Butch is already set on finding out who sent him the fucking posies on secretaries day.  He was NOT amused.

Butch:  Drop it, Mack.  I have my own plans for taking care of that business.  Now, let’s see.  At the last meeting, we all decided to start eating breakfast at 5AM and dinner at 8PM.  We agreed, unanimously, that this would allow us to be on the highways in full force during the rush hour commute, thereby fucking up as many people’s days as we possibly could.  The plan went into effect immediately following the meeting and initial reports are that this has been very effective.  Good job, men!

(wild applause, hoots and hollers)

Butch:  Does anyone have any new business?

Jack:  Yeah, dude.  I have new business.  I think if we just coordinated a little better, we could roll the highway four wide, taking up every fucking lane.  Once we got it going, dude, we could, you know, slow down to five or ten under the speed limit.  I figure that would seriously piss off a lot of corporate drones.  WHO’S WITH ME??? (woot, woot, woot)

(decibel level rises, Gus buys a round of Budweiser for everyone)

Mack:  All in favor?

Crowd:  Aye!!!!!!!!

Mack:  OK, let’s start it Monday.  How about we pilot it down Highway 270 in St. Louis?  Yeah, yeah… those damn St. Louisans already can’t drive.  This will really fuck with their minds.

(wild applause)

Mack:  Before we close business and move on to serious drinking, anyone else have something to share?

Rusty:  Yeah, yeah.  I have this thing I do I thought some of yous might want to take a shot at.  This one is off the freeway.  I drive in the second lane from the right and I don’t put my blinker on.  I wait until someone dares to drive up on my right side then I - quick - whip a wide right turn.  They slam on their breaks every time.  HILL-AIR-EE-US.

Butch:  Be-u-tee-full, man!  I’ll drink to that.

Mack:  OK, if there is nothing else, let’s all repeat the motto and we’ll adjourn.  All together now:

We drive the big rigs every day. 
Our goal is getting in your way. 
We work real hard to earn your scorn. 
But make the sign and we’ll honk the horn! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OK, OK - no disrespect intended to all you hard working truck driving dudes and bitches.  I don’t want any trouble now!  I know it’s just my overactive imagination, but damn, sometimes I swear you plan the best way to screw up my drive to and from work!  If you have any questions or comments, please mail them straight away to not_linda@fakemail.com.  )

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