Oh Dora, look! A bus. PULL OUT! PULL OUT!
Right up the street the state highway I live on makes a sharp 90-degree turn west.
It probably used to be an ordinary four-way intersection where the state highway turned.
But the intersection has since been regraded so the state highway is continuous.
It’s still a sharp 90-degree turn, and you have to slow for it.
But ya don’t hafta signal. It’s the highway turning left.
Continue straight through the intersection and you remain on West Bloomfield-Pittsford Road, the road past my house.
Continue following the state highway, and you end up on Ontario Street at the intersection. Ontario Street goes into Honeoye Falls (“hone-eee-oye;” as in “oil”).
Turn right at the intersection, and you end up on Baker Road, an insignificant rural byway.
So here I am in my car, bopping lazily north on the state highway, having just left my house. (Past my house the highway is West Bloomfield-Pittsford Road.)
I’m headed for Honeoye Falls to deliver a stool-sample to my vet.
I notice a car approaching the intersection, driving south on West Bloomfield-Pittsford Road.
He has a stop-sign at the intersection to allow people like me to swing left on the state highway.
It looks like he will get to the intersection the same time as me.
I flip on my turn-signal, even though I don’t have to. The state highway swings left through the intersection.
I do that because I used to drive city transit bus, and I wanted people to know what I intended to do.
Okay, the dude has stopped as if to let me swing left, but then he charges right out in front of me. I had to brake to let him clear.
Like HELLO; I did have my left-turn signal on.
No problem, per usual. Drama avoided.
How many times did I do things like this driving bus?
“Oh Dora, look! A bus. PULL OUT! PULL OUT!”
I don’t blog stuff like this much any more. I get phenomenal avoidances just about every time I drive, some Granny paging through pictures of her grandchildren, some glowering intimidator, or some young hussy on her cellphone telling her mother about the bum she married.
One time a guy took to the sidewalk because I wouldn’t run a red light.
I did blog that.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered fairly well.
• 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. Glowering intimidators usually shake their fist at me, blow their horn, and give me the middle-finger salute as they roar past.
It probably used to be an ordinary four-way intersection where the state highway turned.
But the intersection has since been regraded so the state highway is continuous.
It’s still a sharp 90-degree turn, and you have to slow for it.
But ya don’t hafta signal. It’s the highway turning left.
Continue straight through the intersection and you remain on West Bloomfield-Pittsford Road, the road past my house.
Continue following the state highway, and you end up on Ontario Street at the intersection. Ontario Street goes into Honeoye Falls (“hone-eee-oye;” as in “oil”).
Turn right at the intersection, and you end up on Baker Road, an insignificant rural byway.
So here I am in my car, bopping lazily north on the state highway, having just left my house. (Past my house the highway is West Bloomfield-Pittsford Road.)
I’m headed for Honeoye Falls to deliver a stool-sample to my vet.
I notice a car approaching the intersection, driving south on West Bloomfield-Pittsford Road.
He has a stop-sign at the intersection to allow people like me to swing left on the state highway.
It looks like he will get to the intersection the same time as me.
I flip on my turn-signal, even though I don’t have to. The state highway swings left through the intersection.
I do that because I used to drive city transit bus, and I wanted people to know what I intended to do.
Okay, the dude has stopped as if to let me swing left, but then he charges right out in front of me. I had to brake to let him clear.
Like HELLO; I did have my left-turn signal on.
No problem, per usual. Drama avoided.
How many times did I do things like this driving bus?
“Oh Dora, look! A bus. PULL OUT! PULL OUT!”
I don’t blog stuff like this much any more. I get phenomenal avoidances just about every time I drive, some Granny paging through pictures of her grandchildren, some glowering intimidator, or some young hussy on her cellphone telling her mother about the bum she married.
One time a guy took to the sidewalk because I wouldn’t run a red light.
I did blog that.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered fairly well.
• 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. Glowering intimidators usually shake their fist at me, blow their horn, and give me the middle-finger salute as they roar past.
posted by BobbaLew at 2:51 PM
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