Two driving incidents

—1) Late yesterday afternoon (Friday, September 12, 2008) I am driving westbound on 5&20 in our CR-V, returning from Canandaigua after -a) having the brakes done, coupled with -b) a trip to mighty Weggers. (I never can do one errand without coupling another.)
All the brake-pads had been replaced and rotors resurfaced. The rears were down to metal-to-metal — memories of why the Blue Bomb failed inspection.
So here I am approaching Bloomfield village, followed by a glowering intimidator in a puke-green LL Bean Subaru.
I’m being slowed by two Grandpops in front of me: a brown Eddie Bauer Ford Explorer, the other a rusty maroon full-size Ford pickup; the version before the most recent. The Explorer is in front.
I usually do about 60-65 on this section, but am down to 45.
Subaru driver is yelling and angrily thumping his steering-wheel, as if I’m the impediment.
We enter Bloomfield village — speedlimit 35 mph. Dippities often set up here to pull over speeders; anything over 40.
So I always slow to 35 mph, as do both Grandpops. I’ve been nailed through here enough times before.
Glowering intimidator is going catatonic — it’s Rush Limbaugh railing against liberals (sorry; “liberials”).
We proceed through the village, and I turn north on Route 64 to avoid a possible flagman stopping traffic ahead. They’ve been repaving 5&20.
To my left I hear an incredible roar.
Sure enough; glowering intimidator has the poor Sube floored — their opposed 2.5-liter pancake four-cylinder (two cylinders per side, just like a Beetle) makes an awful racket at full-throttle.
WHOA! Brakes on!
Glowering intimidator falls in behind the two Grandpops.
Sorry, chillen. No Dubya-sticker.
Just “Peace” and “Obama” and a Christian fish.
I couldn’t make sense of that. (“Christian environmentalist;” ain’t that an oxymoron?)

—2) This morning (Saturday, September 13, 2008) it was light enough at 7:30 a.m. to take the dog to the so-called elitist country-club for a walk.
So I loaded up the Bathtub — Linda was working at the Post Office. Went north to Baker Road, left on Elton, right on County Road 14.
On CR 14 a divorced dentist fell in behind in a top-down silver Eclipse (despite the fog), chawing an unlit cigar, incensed that I had the awful temerity and unmitigated gall and horrific audacity to stop for the stop-sign where CR 14 empties onto State Route 64.
I always stop (or nearly) for that intersection, because 64 is a busy main road, and the view is blocked by trees.
After traffic cleared (thrump-thrump!), I proceeded onto 64; the Eclipse right behind without looking.
We navigate a short straight section across a low part, before curving uphill where I turn left onto County Road 39.
Half way is a left turn onto “Strong Road.”
Most followers turn onto Strong Road, but not the Eclipse.
Because of Strong Road, the straight section is center-marked with a double-yellow line.
But no matter. I hear a roar to my left, and Mr. Incensed Eclipse driver has crossed the double yellow, and is blasting past me.
He flips me the bird as he changes back into my lane.
Guess what, chillen. “Bush-Cheney 2004.”

“5&20” is the main east-west road through our area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where we live.

“The CR-V” is our 2003 Honda CR-V SUV.

“Mighty Weggers” is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester we often buy groceries at. They have a store in Canandaigua.

The “Blue Bomb” was our family’s 1953 Chevy two-door sedan I learned to drive in. It was navy-blue — and a turkey.

A “glowering intimidator” is a tailgater, named after Dale Earnhardt, deceased, the so-called “intimidator” of NASCAR fame, who used to tailgate race-leaders and bump them at speed until they let him pass.

If it’s green, my siblings all say “puke-green.”

“Dippities” are sheriff deputies.

“Liberial” is how my loudmouthed macho brother-from-Boston noisily insists “liberal” is spelled. (Recently it’s “liberila.”)

“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.

All my siblings are tub-thumping born-again Christians.

“The so-called elitist country-club” is nearby Boughton (“BOW-tin” as in “OW”) Park, where I run and we walk our dog. It was called that long ago by an editor at the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, where I once worked, because it will only allow taxpayers of the three towns that own it to use it. We are residents of one of those towns.

“The Bathtub” is our 2005 Toyota Sienna van; called that because it’s white and like sitting in a bathtub.

“Linda” is my wife of 40+ years. Like me she’s retired, but she works part-time at the West Bloomfield post-office.

“CR 14” equals County Road 14.

My friend Tim Belknap calls all racecar driver wannabees “divorced dentists.”