Highway Hazards

Construction boys are highway hazards.  Or to be more precise the haphazard way they toss their gear into the back of pickups and drive away.  They pull onto highways at high speeds.  And sometimes things fall out of those trucks.   Especially if I happen to be on the highway behind them.  What I am about to share are a few tales from my driving past.   They range from laugh aloud funny to scary to infuriating.   These tales give a sample of the interesting things that happen on our highways and byways when you’ve held a job that involves driving to various locations.

A classic example was in Dallas at rush hour in the mid-80s.  I was driving my little blue Pinto.  I know.  One rear-end collision and it would have been all over.  Fortunately that didn’t happen.  At least not in that car.  But I digress.  I was heading to work in the early morning on the expressway.  I was all dressed in my little suit and pumps with big hair.  The ‘80s in Dallas, okay?   That day my suit was a pale pink Evan Picone beauty that I just loved for spring.  With the coordinating pastel multi-colored blouse.  And the perfect shade of pale pink pumps I had just found to go with.   It was a great hair day too.  The usual morning routine of hot rollers in while layering make-up on was very effective.  After slipping on the suit I would take out the rollers and run my fingers through hair to fluff out the curls and hit it with tons of hair spray.  If you forgot to hold your breath you would be choking at that point.  Not kidding. 

So there I was in my little Pinto listening to some pop song on the radio and driving along.  Traffic wasn’t that bad and I was cruising.  Cars all around me but we were moving.  And suddenly there it was in front of me.  A large white caulking compound bucket rolling along the highway.  There was no way to brake or switch lanes.  I kept my car straight and prayed it would roll beside my car instead of under.  And it did but unfortunately it rolled back and I caught it with my back left tire.  And that wheel stopped rolling.  So I had to cross two lanes of traffic to get to the brake down lane.  Dragging the tire the whole way.  And there I was in my little pale pink suit- oh so girly.  Starring at this empty caulking bucket wedged in my tire well. 

My first maneuver was to put my hands on the side of the trunk and jump on it with both feet.  Of course pink pumps may have slippery soles.  So as my feet slid off with some force I was thankful to hang onto the trunk with my hands.  Whew!  I narrowly avoided sprawling onto the highway.  Then I tried pushing the bucket off with my hands.   I broke a few nails on that maneuver and the ‘glow’ I was generating in the warmth of a Texas spring morning was impacting my makeup.  And frizzing my hair.  Next up I tried kicking and pushing on the bucket with just one foot.  Ahhh!  Sweet victory!  It finally came off and I was on my way.   A little rumpled and weather worn but the suit still looked fairly good.  And at least my fellow commuters got a free show.

Flash forward about twenty years.  I’m heading home from work on a Friday afternoon.  I’m on the highway known as Rt 128 just south of Boston.  And in front of me I see a contractor’s pickup crossing lanes towards me.  A very large painting ladder is leaning in the truck and bouncing around.  I watch in horror as the ladder jumps out of that truck and lands standing up in the highway.  Then it flips a few times end to end.  At this point I had already hit the flashers and slammed on my brakes.  I was able to cross over to the brake down lane and just stopped.  Because the ladder had finally landed flat onto the surface of the highway and it was snaking around at a rapid pace.  Finally it stopped moving.  It was fairly close to my CRV.  What are the odds that the ladder moved in tandem with me?  Yet it did.  My hands were shaking as I slowly pulled my car out and drove around the ladder.   Such a relief to get home and share the tale with my husband.  He told me the young man in the truck was probably more focused on getting to the bar to meet his buddies.

There are many other car stories I could share.   Let me ask - how many times have you been stopped at a stop sign at the end of a highway exit ramp or at an intersection and been rear-ended?  Try four times.  Granted it was due to slippery roads twice but you get the picture.   A third time a construction geezer in an uninsured battered pick-up claimed his brakes failed after the police arrived.   When in reality he had initially asked me why I stopped instead of yielding on the off ramp.  Hmmm, because it’s a stop sign?

I can feel my guardian angel cringe every time I pull out onto a highway.   
And neither of us enjoys visiting Home Depot.  Construction boys are highway hazards.