Cee’s Which Way Photo Challenge: 2014 #20

I thought I’d start with a little traveling’ music. Because there’s something about the open road and music playing. You want to tap your feet, but you can’t, because you’ve got those pedals.

Boston road signs

So you drive faster — if you can and traffic allows — until the sound of the road under your wheels matches the music. Then you just hope the cops don’t nail you for speeding.

road to skowhegan Rt 201


The music and the trees and the road and all the little towns through which you travel become one, part of a single experience. Traveling. Rolling on and it feels like it’ll last forever.

road to skowhegan Rt-201

Maine autumn roads


Trio no. 4 - Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must include a speeding car, a phone call, and a crisp, bright morning. (Wildcard: you can swap any of the above for a good joke.)


I’m such a good sport I’m going to give you an anecdote and a joke. Please, hold the applause till after the punchline.


It was a lovely crisp Saturday morning.  I was heading north out of New York to visit Garry in Boston. I don’t remember which car I was driving. I bet it was the turquoise VW Rabbit my parents had bought me. My own little pocket rocket.

I am not a slow driver, though I try to be a careful one. If I see a wide open road and I figure I’m not going to get ticketed, I’ve been know to put pedal to the metal. Drive perhaps somewhat faster than the legal limit.

Which is why I was surprised, as I drove along in the left lane of the limited access highway, to be passed on the right and cut off — leaving just millimeters spare — by a vehicle going so fast he nearly sucked the doors off my car.


I was a bit shaken, especially since he had no reason to cut me off at all. The road was empty. He had plenty of room, so he was just being an asshole. I hadn’t even seen him coming.

“Go tiger,” I murmured, looking down at my speedometer. I was going a smidge over 80 MPH, so how fast had he been going? It was as if I was standing still.

“People like him,” I muttered, “Give all of us a bad name.”

I continued on my merry way, made merrier by the music playing on my radio … until I saw flashing lights ahead. I slowed. Then I slowed more, until I was crawling along. Blue lights were flashing everywhere. This was no normal speeding ticket stop. There were not merely one or two police cars. There must have been a hundred or more squad cars, motorcycles, a couple of vans.

It was a cop convention!

My favorite speeder and all around dangerous driver had plunged right into a convoy of law enforcement officers on their way to an event.

The fellow, a young man of unimpressive demeanor, was standing on the shoulder of the road, hands in the air looking terrified. Officers stood near him, several of whom had telephones to their ears. They had bagged a good one and were clearly having fun as only a convention of cops with official vehicles can.

I was gloriously happy. Justice, so rarely served, was coming to one who thoroughly deserved it. And in such a memorable way, I doubted he would ever speed again. I couldn’t see whether or not he had (yet) wet his pants, but I could hope.

I gave a thumbs up to the cops standing around the road writing out tickets – I wonder how many they gave him? To me, they gave a collective thumbs up.

The rest of the trip to Boston was easy peasy.


So, a guy falls off a very high building. As he passes each floor on his trip to the ground, he shouts out “So far, so good.”

That’s all of us. So far, so good.


Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Vehicle Details

If the devil is in the details, so are the best pictures … at least when you are talking about vehicles.


Old trucks. Rusty with age and honor.

It's a fire engine!

It’s a fire engine!

old number 2 two side view

But wait! What about … a shiny antique car? Oh, here’s one!

antique car heritage

And motorcycles … a few of them maybe?

Motorcycles count too, don't they?

Motorcycles count too, don’t they?




In Retrospect - Yesterday you invented a new astrological sign. Today, write your own horoscope — for the past month (in other words, as if you’d written it October 1st).

As if yesterday were not bad enough, now you want me to write about this soon-to-be-over month as if it hadn’t happened yet — but like someone had the prescience to know what would happen. And write about it like a silly newspaper astrologer.

Well, the jokes on you because I used to be one of those silly newspaper astrologers. I quickly learned no matter what twaddle I wrote, someone always thought I’d nailed their life. A soothsayer can, it would seem, do no wrong. And really, this assignment is just a version of “What did you do on your vacation” turned backwards. Or sideways. Or something.

Hocus … … … POCUS! and WHOOSH. A puff of mist rises from the crystal ball. My eyes are wide, like saucers — small saucers like those that come with demi-tasse cups.


Mist in the morning, Peachum, Vermont

“Madame Zthulu,” I cry, “what does this mean?”

“You will travel far and wide,” she croaks ominously. “But slowly, very slowly. You will see everything as you pass it. Your number is … ” And here she pauses and rummages in her sack to pull out a pack of cards with big numbers on them. I’m pretty sure I can see numbers on both side of the cards.

“Hey, aren’t those flash cards for learning multiplication tables … ?” I start to question her, but she cuts me off.

“HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT MADAME ZTHULU,” she thunders. I crumble in the face of her wrath. Or is that wreath? She’s got a really nice wreath on the wall of the tent and I get up to look at it. I just love handicrafts.

“SIT!” she says, and points. “What was I saying?”

I sit. “You were going to tell me my number,” I say, humbly and quietly.

“WHAT?” She shouts. “Speak up. Don’t mumble child.” Child? She must be blind, not merely deaf.



“Right you are,” she says and pulls a cards from the pack. “Your number is 28. You will travel either 28 miles — no that can’t be right — or maybe by route 28,” and she looks at me, apparently hoping for confirmation but I shake my head. Sounds like the wrong road, but I’m probably the wrong person to ask.

“Then,” she says, certainty returning to her tone, “You will travel at 28 miles per hour and do this for many hours, many days. But the scenery will be just gorgeous, really. You’re gonna love it.”

And she puts out her hand, palm up. International soothsayer-speak for “pay me,” and I do.

As I exit her tent, I realize it’s gotten terribly foggy . I’m completely lost. Again.


Share Your World – 2014 Week 42

What would be your preference, awake before dawn or awake before noon?

I wake up, whether or not I want to, before dawn almost every day. Then I diligently put myself back to sleep if I can. Today, I didn’t bother because we are on the road and I can use the extra time to write before we are out of here. I wouldn’t mind being an early riser — sunrise is a delicious time of day — if there were a few more hours between going to sleep and getting up. But apparently that is how my body likes it. My opinion is neither here nor there.

As long as there is coffee when I stumble out of the bedroom, I can deal with the earliness, though if I had my druthers, it would be closer to noon than dawn.

Bonnie - 1

While we are discussing morning — we are discussing morning, right? — I want to mention that Bonnie stole my breakfast cookies this morning. She not only stole them, she took the napkin in which they were wrapped and she made a clean getaway in a matter of just a few minutes while I readied my coffee.  I bet she thinks she got away with it, the little terrorist, but I know the truth …

If you could choose between Wisdom and Luck, which one would you pick?

I’ve given wisdom my best shot and look where it’s gotten me? So now, a change of pace is in order. I no longer am seeking to improve my soul. This round, I want cash. A nice fat lottery win. I’m going with luck, this time. There’s nothing which says I can’t be wise and rich.

Wisdom is all well and good, in its place … but luck is fun.

If you were given the opportunity for free skydiving lessons would you take them? Why or why not?

When I was younger and had a functional spine, I’d have done it. Garry enjoyed it and we could have done it together. Sadly, it’s not in the cards at this point.

Is the glass half empty or half full? What is in the glass?

It’s always half full. Of either coffee or Power Zero. Because that’s what all I’m allowed to drink and I quite literally have a “go cup” of one of these with me all the time. Okay, sometimes I sneak in an illicit coca cola. Does anyone besides me wish they’d put the coca back in the cola? Talk about your fun times …

Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

Grateful the weather held for our entire vacation. Grateful for the friends who invited us to stay with them and enjoy some of the best company and most magnificent countryside I’ve ever seen … or am likely to see again. Grateful for cars that don’t break down, computers that warn you before they fold their proverbial tent.


Grateful that funny noise the yellow car is making remained just a noise and didn’t prevent us from getting home. And deeply grateful to Dwight D. Eisenhower for building nice roads on which we can drive.

Next week? I’m looking forward to the end of the ongoing well and water crisis because I’m running out of places to haul my laundry. And I would really like a bath.