Glowering Intimidator

The other day (last Thursday, November 12th, 2015) I had a medical appointment in nearby Canandaigua at noon.
After setting up my dog inside my house, I aimed my car out the driveway toward State Route 65, the road I live on.
After traffic cleared, only one car, I turned south on 65 toward the center of our little town, what there is of it.
The center of our town is the traffic-light, where 65 ends at its intersection with east/west 5&20.
The road 65 is on continues south as County Road 37.
5&20 is NY State Route 5, and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road.
5&20 used to be the main east/west road across western NY before the Thruway, Interstate-90. It followed an old indian-trail, and separated about 20-30 miles west.
State Route 5 goes up along the lake. I remember driving it back in the ‘70s chasing a restored railroad steam-locomotive, Norfolk & Western #611.

611 chuffs down 17th Street in Erie on the old Nickel Plate. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

We were skirting Lake Erie.
I’m a railfan, and have been since age-2 — I’m 71.
At the traffic-light I would turn left toward Canandaigua.
As I began my turn I noticed a glowering intimidator nipping my bumper, shaking his fist and yelling, and lunging to my right as if trying to pass illegally in the right-turn lane for County Road 37.
That right-turn lane goes away.
Clearly, I wasn’t driving fast enough. I was driving at a reasonable and normal speed, instead of blasting my turn like race-driver Denis Hulme (“hyoom”) rocketing his Big-Block Can-Am McLaren out of the hairpin at Mosport (“moe-SPORT”).


Hulme blasts Moss Hairpin at Mosport about 1970, in his Can-Am McLaren, the greatest racecars I’ve ever seen. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

I wasn’t pedal-to-the-metal!
I drove transit-bus 16&1/2 years for Regional Transit Service (RTS), a public-employer, the supplier of bus-service in Rochester and environs.
In order to drive a bus safely, you had to allow for idiots and wackos.
I still do it! My braking-distances are way more than suggested. I still wanna stop without throwing my passengers outta the seats.
So okay, let the dude pass when we get outta town.
But he fell behind as we drove out of town.
That is, until I slowed for a pickup signaling a left-turn ahead of me.
Another car was between me and the pickup, and I doubt Mr. Glowering Intimidator saw the pickup.
All he saw was me, obstructing his fevered attempt to be a NASCAR racer.
On my bumper again, shaking his fist and yelling.
It became apparent I and my leader were going to have to go around the pickup on the right shoulder.
But I got a raving maniac behind me.
He was already lunging for the right shoulder, so I backed off and let him by.
My leader had already moved to the right shoulder, surprising Mr. Intimidator, who was more obsessed with me than ascertaining the whole picture.
He had to back off; at least he didn’t rear-end my leader.
Drive eight hours a day, and you get madness like this.
“Oh Dora, look, a bus. PULL-OUT! PULL-OUT!”

• The Nickel Plate mainline did street-running through Erie, PA.
• Sports Car Club of America’s Can-Am series, back in the early ‘70s, was the BEST racing I ever saw. Unlimited two-seater fendered sports cars with hot-rodded aluminum Big-Block Chevy motors generating almost 800 horsepower — the ultimate hotrod on twisting road-circuits. One of the road-courses was Mosport near Toronto. The Can-Am waned after Porsche (“poor-sha”) developed a 1,000 horsepower turbocharged Can-Am racer.

Um, HELLO.........

65 turns west from the south.

About 400-500 yards north of my house, State Route 65 turns sharply left 90 degrees toward Honeoye Falls (“hone-eee-OYE;” as in “boy”).
It used to be a four-way intersection, and still is. It’s just that the highway department rebuilt and regraded it, so that traffic on 65 can be continuous.
The turn is banked.
What’s happening is that Ontario St. from Honeoye Falls is turning south on Pittsford-West Bloomfield Road.
I live on Pittsford-West Bloomfield Road, but it’s also State Route 65.
Go straight north through the intersection, and you continue on Pittsford-West Bloomfield Road.
Straight east from Ontario St. goes onto Baker Road.
It probably used to be a flat four-way intersection, but Route 65 made the turn, so the intersection was rebuilt.
Traffic turning has the right-of-way.
The other two streets have stop-signs.
But as a retired bus-driver I don’t trust that.
I may have the right-of-way, but I signal my turn. There’s always a chance some idiot will drift through a stop-sign and cut me off.
I was on my way to Honeoye Falls to buy groceries. To do so I have to make the turn.
I cranked on my signal, and noticed a blue-metallic Honda Odyssey van at the stop-sign headed south on Pittsford-West Bloomfield Road. She would need to cross the intersection.
Sure enough, despite having my signal on, and having the right-of-way, little miss Odyssey pranced slowly into the intersection cutting me off.
I slowed and waved.
She never saw me, or pretended she didn’t.
Thank goodness I once drove Transit-bus. My driving-instructor told me to expect anything.
“Oh Dora, look, a bus. PULL OUT, PULL OUT!

• “Honeoye Falls” is the nearest village to the west to where I live in western New York, a rural village about five miles away. I live in West Bloomfield, south of Rochester (NY).
• “Pittsford” is a ritzy suburb southeast of Rochester. The Erie Canal goes through it.
• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, 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.

Utter Insanity

Now, can I blog some utter insanity, just like the old days before my wife died?
It’s awfully hard to blog anything when I have a heavy heart.
College-try time. Pick up the old shovel and start slingin’.
I’m walking calmly through the parking-lot at the Mighty Canandaigua Weggers yesterday (Thursday, July 5, 2012) returning to my car.
I start down a parking-lot aisle, and suddenly Granny appears in a silver Pontiac sedan. The slot was open, so she’s driven through from the other side.
She sees me perhaps four feet from the slot, so puts the hammer down!
Prior to my wife’s death, I would have yelled and then said “hex-KYOOZE me!”
But that’s not how I am since my wife died.
I seem to be cowed.
Like, she almost ran me over!
I get cut off willy-nilly, but just back off.
My blowhard brother-in-Boston, the macho Harley-dude, notes I drive “like an old man.”
Well yeah, I am an old man. (I’m 68.)
But I get plenty of Geezers glowering at me as if I’m an impediment to their progress.
And usually their doting wives are with them.
It’s simple, I’m cowed since my wife died.
The average person, like my brother, is not where I am.
I realize this isn’t much of a blog, but the muse is quiet.

• My beloved wife of 44 years died of cancer April 17, 2012. She was 68. I miss her dearly.
• “Mighty Weggers” is Wegmans, a large supermarket-chain based in Rochester I often buy groceries at. They have a store in Canandaigua.(“Canandaigua” [“cannan-DAY-gwuh”] is a small city to the east nearby where I live in Western NY. The city is also within a rural town called “Canandaigua.” The name is Indian, and means “Chosen Spot.” It’s about 14 miles away.) I live in the small rural town of West Bloomfield in Western NY, southeast of Rochester.)