Whilst on our way to yet another weekend camping trip in the late 70's or early 80's, the destination now forgotten, Jozep, Bob and I were driving Bob's Monte Carlo up I-70 outside Idaho Springs.
In those days I-70 was a pretty smooth drive up to the ski areas, the population of the state was 2.2 million or so, now it's 5 plus million, so traffic jams on the highway were very rare even during the winter.
But there one was. 20, 30 cars backed up and not doing the 55 mph speed limit.
In the right lane, eight or so cars ahead, a damn Winnebago doing 30. (I began singing the classic blues song "I'm got those ole chasin' a Winnebago Blues" thinking they were the real culprit of this entanglement.)
In the left lane, with the curves of the highway, we couldn't see who was matching the Winne mph for mph. But there was something holding up our progress.
After a few moments of scoping out the situation, Bob deftly dropped the Chevy into the right hand lane (the Winnie was making some headway) and we moved car by car forward finally within sight of the offending left lane laggard.
I was in the back seat ranting about the highways going to hell and Bob pulled closer.
I rolled down the back window, hung half my body out the window and yelled.
"Get the fuck outta that lane!!!"
At a car occupied by three nuns.
After Bob and Jozep's laughter died down and the nun's swerved out of the fast lane. Bob finally said:
"AJ, you're going the Hell."
Yup. Guaranteed.
No comments:
Post a Comment