CAR-MA AND COPS – Marilyn Armstrong

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. Probably my turquoise VW Rabbit, my personal 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 a ticket, I’ve been known to put the pedal to the metal, perhaps a tad 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 to spare — by a vehicle going so fast he nearly sucked the doors off my car.

Icy rocks

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 at my speedometer. I was going a smidge over 80 MPH, so how fast was he going? He passed me as if I were standing still.

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

I continued on my way, made merrier by the music 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. It was not one or two police cars. There must have been a hundred or more squad cars, motorcycles, and a couple of vans.

It was a cop convention!

On the road to Skowhegan
Open road

My speeder had plunged into the heart of a law enforcement convoy!

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. They had bagged a good one and were clearly having fun as only a convention of cops can.

On the way to Chestnut Hill

I was happy.

Justice, so rarely served, was coming to one who thoroughly deserved it. I doubted he would ever speed again. I couldn’t tell if he had wet his pants, but I could hope.

I gave a thumbs up to the cops standing around writing as many tickets as they could think of.  I still wonder how many he got. In returns, a number of cops gave a thumbs up.

I was laughing the entire rest of the trip to Boston.

DIRECTIONAL – Marilyn Armstrong

RDP Friday: DIRECTIONAL

It’s the “clicker” in the car when you need to make a turn. If you don’t turn it on, you get a ticket. If you do, everyone crowds you in to prevent you from doing anything. I swear there are a million drivers out there who see things like directionals as a challenge to their ability to block you from any movement. It’s an actual technique in Boston. If you let your car wander a bit — just enough to avoid a ticket for dangerous driving, but sufficient to befuddle the drivers behind you, you can stop at least two lanes and sometimes three lanes of traffic.

Before there were electronic “clickers, there were hand signals. These worked pretty well, except in the middle of the winter or in the pouring rain when sticking your arm out the window will make your left arm icy, wet, or both. It was also hard on your clothing.

Car hand signals for those rare moments when your directional indicators are not inclined to blink. Hardly anyone uses them, but I have found as a passenger, leaning halfway out the window and pointing furiously at the right lane so the guy behind us just can’t possibly say he didn’t see the signal — EVEN if he was on the phone or trying to find the station that plays punk rock. It ALWAYS works. I think just seeing this old lady hanging out the window and pointing and waving her arms is a real attention-grabber. In theory, you can use a hand signal along with your electronic signals, but usually, when a hand is sticking out of the window, the driving is drying her or his fingernails. Probably not a signal.

Of course, it can also mean having a direction in life — a goal, as it were. There was a time when I had future-oriented goals. Now I have survival goals. Like: how saggy is the deck? Do I need to start a fund-raising drive now or might it not crumble until after we no longer need it?

I’m pretty sure these days, the only creatures that would miss it are the few birds that haven’t been chased away by the squirrels — and of course, the squirrels.

As an example of how pointless goals really are – even short term goals -last night, I stood up to do something. Except between standing and doing whatever I was supposed to do, I forgot.

So I stood there, determined to not sit down until I remembered why I stood up. This took a few minutes, but eventually, I realized I was looking for a container for storing CD cards for my cameras. It’s my “spare” container in which I keep the cards I have removed from the reader. It’s easy enough to forget to take the card out of the reader only to discover that you have “No recording media in camera.”

Recording media? What’s … oh. You mean the SD card. It’s in the computer. I sure hope I have another one. These days, memory has gone bye-bye, I immediately replace the card before I have a chance to forget I need one … and since there’s just a 15-second lapse between remembering and forgetting, I need to have everything at hand. This message is particularly irritating when you have your shot lined up. You press the shutter. Then you get the message. The camera could warn you sooner, couldn’t it? Like … when you turn it on? Maybe they do and I don’t notice?

At least I know if there’s no battery because the camera doesn’t turn on at all. What I don’t know is that there’s only one more shot in there, after which it’s going to shut down.

It doesn’t take long to put a card in the camera. I try to keep extras with each camera (blessed be, they ALL use the same cards!) but the picture you couldn’t take because you were missing the “recording media” or SD card never comes back. You may get a better or worse picture later, but you won’t get THAT one.

Bicycles signals, usually ignored by drivers who are talking on the phone or messing with their radio …

Meanwhile, how many people remember that there are hand signals you can use in cars and more importantly, on bicycles or motorcycles where you either have no electronic signals or it can be much less obvious what your intentions are?

Of course, there are the official signals … and then there are the “other signals.”

As I said, my personal favorite is hanging out the passenger window, waving both arms and pointing at the right lane indicating (a) a parking space!! or (b) we need to make that turn right NOW. Don’t forget your raincoat and gloves if the weather is bad.

THE FIRE TRUCK WHO SERVED AND GOT SAVED – Marilyn Armstrong

Old Number 2 was one of the long-serving fire trucks in our town. Almost 20 years ago, she was replaced, but no one could bear to scrap her, so she was put out to pasture … literally.

Her rusting hulk stood for years in the empty field across from the post office — where she remained until they decided she was too rusty, old, potentially dangerous and needed to be scrapped — at which point she was adopted.



OLD NUMBER TWO FIRE ENGINE

Undergoing rehab! Photo: Garry Armstrong
Photo: Garry Armstrong
Photo: Marilyn Armstrong

FROM JEEP TO BETTER JEEP – Marilyn Armstrong

FOWC with Fandango — Turnover

We are both extremely fond of apple turnovers and almost always have a box of the mini-size ones in the house. We have both turned over at least one or many new leaves through our 149 years of life.

Turn over – 1
Turn over 2
Finally, nearly finished.

But the really biggest turnover was swapping out our little Jeep Patriot for our much newer Jeep Renegade. It was the perfect second-hand car, too. Less than 3 years old, just over 20,000 miles on it and perfect for what we needed.

It doesn’t use much gasoline, but big enough for us and three small dogs. And it will drive on pretty much anything!

Ready to go!

 

DO YOU HAVE THE KEYS TO THE UMBRAGE? – Marilyn Armstrong

FOWC with Fandango — Umbrage

When I was a teenager (I actually was one, a long time ago!), I thought the word “umbrage” was hilarious. People took the Chevy or the Pontiac … but I wanted to drive the Umbrage. I figured it would be the perfect car to drive in a thoroughly annoying world.

“Would you like a taxi, madam?”

“No thank you, Jeeves. I’ll just take Umbrage!”

Is this a classic Umbrage or what?
A classic hot rod Umbrage

Off I would drive in my Umbrage. No matter how fretful, disgruntled, and generally pissed off at the world I was, my Umbrage would always understand.

An Umbrage that looks like an Umbrage should

Nonetheless, despite my entreaties, no one has had built a driveable Umbrage. These days, I think a self-driving Umbrage would be even more satisfactory.

There’s always the Oscar Meyer dog-day Umbrage special

Given the state of the world at the moment, I believe now is that perfect the time for a mobile Umbrage. Everyone is so stressed and mentally messed up, the moment may finally have arrived.

For the executive taking Umbrage

“Madam, we are offering the Umbrage in dark blue, silver, beige, black, and of course the ever-aggravating orange.”

“Thanks. I’ll take orange.”

BICYCLES AND OTHER NON-CARS – Garry & Marilyn Armstrong

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Bicycles, Tricycles, Motorcycles, Wagons

Not exactly an “open-air” traveling day. Very bright outside, but also, very cold and colder is coming. It seems winter will some. It’s been creeping up on us, little by little.

The pictures are mostly Garry’s, but a few of mine made the cut!

The lonely cyclist – Photo: Garry Armstrong
Photo: Garry Armstrong
Photo: Garry Armstrong
Photo: Garry Armstrong
A car and bike show
Kaiti on her own bike – a motorcycle — with four wheels!
Horse (fake) and carriage (real) in Gettysburg

Old fashioned taxi
Slow moving coach on a hot day in Tombstone

ENGINES, MOTORS, AND THAT SORT OF THING – Marilyn Armstrong

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge:
Things with Engines and Motors

I have a few interesting ones and I am delighted to find something interesting for which to use them. Engines and technology. Power and tiny AI motors …

Hoisted Plymouth Prowler – a very rare car!
More Plymouth Prowler
Engine block cum end table
Garry surrounded by equipment
Working!
And it all needs power!