Misadventures

This morning the outside temperature was 9° — too cold for dogs.
So we decided instead to go to mighty Weggers, via the 93-year-old nosy neighbor who has been in Thompson Hospital about a week.
The ambulance took him last weekend, although it wasn’t an emergency (i.e. no lights, no siren).
He had fallen a week-or-two ago, and had difficulty walking — he had cracked his pelvis, it was ascertained.
He had taken to staying in his lift-chair (that dumps ya on the floor), and was wearing a diaper, and had fallen again. I guess he had spilled his pee-pot, and was trying to clean it up.
In the chair, he was essentially inactive, so that he wasn’t walking, and hadn’t been outside for weeks.
His only son Billy (in his 70s) from Pittsburgh, had been up since Thanksgiving — afraid to go home.
Billy decided he couldn’t take care of him, plus the hospital was to give him rehab.
So off to the hospital he went — next step rehab at a nursing-home.
He was still in the hospital this morning; and Billy was fixing to go home — since his daughter (the 93-year-old nosy neighbor’s granddaughter) was on-hand to take care of the 93-year-old nosy neighbor’s wife — who seems to be getting better.
And so we proceeded towards Thompson Hospital, although first we had to hit the infamous Bloomfield (Holcomb) post-office to dump some letters in the outdoor drive-by boxes.
I drive up 5&20 into Bloomfield, and turn left at a cross-street that intersects the street that eventually goes by the post-office.
As soon as I made my left-turn, an intimidator in a white Jeep fell in behind me and climbed my bumper.
Intimidator was exceedingly angry I wasn’t negotiating the street at 152 mph, so roared unsignaled off onto an old one-way side-street that cuts the dogleg.
He was already blasting out onto the street that goes by the post-office as I stopped at it.
As he disappeared into the distance in a cloud of tire-smoke and dust; yep, sure-enough; W-04 on the back of the Jeep.

The 93-year-old nosy neighbor was glad to see us — especially me — probably lonely and bored-to-death. “They ain’t givin’ me no rehab,” he said. “Nuthin’!”
“And when ya gotta go to the bathroom, yer supposed to ring up the nurse.”
“When they finally showed up: ‘too late.’”
“One time I rang the bell, and waited almost an hour,” he reported.
“A nurse walked by, so I threw a plastic cup at her on the floor.”
“‘Were you tryin’ to hit me?’ she screamed. ‘Got your attention, didn’t I,’ I said.”
“And if ya fall, the whole hospital shows up. ‘Whadja try that for?’ they shriek.”
“I don’t know; it’s crazy, I tell ya.”
We jabbered for at least 45 minutes. Who knows; this may be the last motel; although he’s rather ornery.
A seeing-eye dog visited, and he asked the dog why it wasn’t wearing a white coat.......

Next stop was mighty Weggers to buy groceries, as I would have done anyway.
Leaving I had to back out of my parking-slot, and a beige Altima started backing out as soon as I started.
“Woops!” Linda shouted; “I guess we better wait for Mr. speed-demon;” who had backed out without looking.
I dutifully waited for Mr. speed-demon, and fell in behind him at an access-road parallel to 5&20 (Lakeshore Blvd.) that tees into another access-road that intersects with 5&20 at a traffic-light. I noticed the beige Altima had a W-04 sticker on the back. DUBYA-STICKER ALERT! We proceeded to a stop sign at the road that accesses the traffic-light; and that road also goes straight-across into the old Chase-Pitkin (now closed).
So the drill is to yield-right-of-way to anyone coming straight across 5&20 from the old Chase-Pitkin into Weggers.
The traffic-light changed, and the beige Altima, turning left (unsignaled) onto 5&20, lunged headlong right in front of a full-size Chevy pickup coming straight across the intersection. (The pickup had to slam on its brakes.)
The W-04 sticker was on the back of the beige Altima, so how could the Chevy-driver see it and take cover?
“HOOOOONNNNKKKK!” One-finger salute time; smackdown time; the Chevy pickup had a W-04 sticker too.
What happens when two Dubya-supporters are at odds? (NUCLEAR ARMAGEDDON ALERT! BLAZING UZI ALERT!)

(My brother in Delaware brags his turbocharged Volvo will do 152 mph.)