Unbagging the Cats 1

Unbagging the Cats 1

Monday, July 25, 2011

Jesus on a Rascal

There is the edge of vehicular impropriety, and then there is the abyss.

Perhaps you remember my rants about people driving four-wheelers or other off-road vehicles on blacktop county roads. Or people walking in the road and refusing to yield the right-of-way to automobiles. Yesterday, I even encountered a golf cart woman, two bicycle kids, two dogs, and a lawnmower man in one long Mardi-Gras-like procession over hill and dale on my narrow, unlined blue highway.

But what I ran across today in town took the cake like an Olympic-caliber cakewalker at a grade school carnival.

A man in a motorized chair. 

It was like a Hoveround. Or a Rascal. Only the man was not motoring down either of the two available sidewalks, perhaps dreaming of a rumble with George Costanza. Neither was he driving his chair down the smooth, paved shoulder, ample enough for car parking. No. He was driving down the right lane like a licensed vehicle. He even had a small license plate under his butt. JESUS. That's not an exclamation from me. That was his license. JESUS.

Technically, I did not "run across" this road blocker. Which is a good thing, because the long arm of the law pulled out from a side street and tailgated me for half a mile. That was after the Hovering Rascal pulled off onto the shoulder. Which he did upon seeing the long arm of the law. Note that the Arm did not stop to chat with Hovering Rascal about his future route about town. The Arm followed ME. A law-abiding citizen who struggles daily not to inadvertently commit vehicular manslaughter. I wanted to climb out on my running board and holler to him, "Sorry, buddy. It wasn't MY idea to make the speed limit along here 20 mph." I could have even done a few flips over the top of my SUV. Or hopped off, run a circle around it, and jumped back in through the sun roof at that low speed.

The Arm gave up my chase and turned down a different side street toward the 7-Eleven. Maybe they had some snacks that interested him. Or maybe he received radio confirmation that my driving record is spotless and sparkling. Now.

What I wanted with him was a dialogue. Specifically, the answer to my burning question: "Since the chair man drives on the street, can I drive on the sidewalk?"


irishoma said...

When I started reading your post the Seinfeld episode popped into my head. It's funny, but also dangerous, and at least George ran his race on a sidewalk

A few weeks ago I spied a guy in a motorized chair in the suicide lane trying to cross one of the busiest streets in St. Peters. Scared the bejesus out of me.


Sioux said...

ANOTHER entertaining post. Another case of Belly Bombers for your family, and extra ones for those growing boys of yours.

It sounds like your part of the world is bent on providing lots of writng ideas for you. Congratulations.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Really, are you sure you weren't right here in my city?

labbie1 said...

That was just normal in our hometown in KS.

The best one was the little rascal with the cover out of which a man emerged in his robe and slippers heading into Wal-Mart! LOL

There was the guy who drove a lawn mower all over town. Later, he got a trailer for the mower so he could take his great neices and great nephews with him.

Ah the interesting things you see in small towns--though it would seem that your town has more than it's share of crazies!

And we can't get gas station chicken anymore!!!! I went there last week to get some for dinner and when I drove up it had a sign stating that it was closed and the area for lease!!!! Wahhhhhhhh!!!!

Tammy said...

I'm with Sioux. The entertainment value was priceless.

Val Thevictorian said...

They all need JESUS license plates. They don't even have to wear helmets.

Again, I must decline your lovely offer of a lifetime supply of Belly Bombers. Still open to the gas station chicken, though.

How considerate of the entire population of a three-county area to provide me with daily material.

Rural Missouri is pretty much rural Missouri.

We had a town guy on a lawnmower because he had a DUI. Then he was ticketed for the same thing on his lawnmower. So sorry to hear of your loss of gas station chicken. I'll eat an extra piece for you.

All we're missing is a guy named Nub who pushes himself around town in a little red wagon.