Foray

Off again to Wilmot Cancer Center in Rochester; but this time it’s only a doctor-appointment — a so-called “toxicity checkup;” chemo resumes next week.
I gingerly back the Bucktooth Bathtub out of our garage, but there’s a gigantical red Chevy pickup in our driveway, Confederate flag draped in the rear-window, young macho-dude glowering at me.
Perish-the-thought I have the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to want to use my own driveway when it’s being occupied by macho-dude.
Thankfully, macho-dude is just turning around; he backs his pickup out in front of oncoming traffic (which must slow), and then lays about 75 feet of rubber up the street.
He goes about 100 yards and turns right into the driveway he originally intended, left-turn signal flashing.
No Dubya-sticker, but a “Get-R-Dun” bumper-sticker on the tailgate.
Must be REPUBLICAN; he’s sure driving like one. (“Get outta the way!”)
I arrow out my now unoccupied driveway, intending to turn NORTH onto Route 65, and notice an oncoming car far up the road — far enough away for me to think I should pull out (he’s at least a quarter-mile away).
I proceed north on Route 65, and adjacent to the motorcycle-store (about an eighth-mile from our driveway), before I make the sharp turn WEST, I notice a red Firebird in my mirror, driver glowering and thumping his steering-wheel.
“Is this same the guy that was a quarter-mile away?” I think. If so, he sure covered that section in front of our house well over the speed-limit, which is 40.
He must have passed our house at 100+ mph; thank goodness no deeries were crossing. That’s happened — a Ford pickup lost its windshield when we set out for the Aunt Betty birthday. Killed the deerie; tossed it down the road.
The doctor-appointment was at 9:15 a.m.; meaning missing NASCAR rush-hour by about an hour.
“Well, I worry about her,” I said to the doctor; “but she’s in the back-yard tearing out the garden.”

My wife of nearly 40 years, “Linda,” has lymphatic cancer. It’s treatable with chemo-therapy.

“The Bucktooth-Bathtub” is our 2005 Toyota Sienna van; called that because it’s white and like sitting in a bathtub, and appears to have a bucktooth on the grill.

“Dubya-sticker” is a Bush-Cheney 2004 bumper-sticker. All insane traffic-moves seem to involve Bush-supporters. They seem to think they have the right.

We live on “Route 65.”

The “Aunt Betty birthday” was my Aunt Betty’s surprise 80th birthday-party in late-2005 in south Jersey, where she lives. We attended.