"If the Pig-Man Had a Car, He'd Give You a Ride." or "No, I Don't Have a Square to Spare. I Can't Spare a Square."

Today’s run produced a typical scene experienced by any runner that runs on the road (treadmillers, feel free to read on; Hey! I just made up a word!!)… The motorist that cannot spare any of the road… As a lucid and rational runner, I can accept that running on a major road may engender a sense of annoyance for motorists trying to navigate their way.

I understand that we (runners) at times, don’t help our cause as our community will at times dart in and out of traffic without warning… I know we are guilty of not obeying “traffic laws” as we prance down the street (that is for one of the guys; I will use the alias of “Steve” for that runner) running in the same direction as traffic,,,

I personally will fight for that strip of snow-free pavement during the winter months, at the risk of a hip-replacement-by-outside-mirror procedure… I can understand why some motorists can be nozzles…

What I have a hard time with is the time honored tradition of the motorist that cannot give you any road… “Can’t spare a square.” Predictably the road will be empty (not even a painted center line), yet said driver will cling to the lane… I could understand if the driver was drunk and on his way home wary of any swerve that would trigger the “erratic driving” sensor…

That death grip control of the steering wheel that demands total focus not seen since driver’s ed… Hands at 2 & 10, with the radio off at the exact speed of the posted limit, I get that… Who hasn’t done that? C’mon that was a joke… Rico does not endorse drinking and driving… Why wreck a perfectly good buzz by focusing on “the one in the middle”…

No usually, the offending party can be identified as one of three groups:

The Oblivious. Totally unaware of the fact that they are driving, or anything else, they often times won’t move over until they have passed you. I know this because after I indicate digitally that they are #1, I look behind me to see if I am going to do an unscheduled interval. They typically have a passenger or a cell phone that they are conversant with.

I am convinced that these are also the drivers that sit in the left lane regardless of the build up of traffic behind them. Being a slightly “routine driven” (which is loosely translated to mean wackjob) person, I am convinced that these people know my “routine” to and from work, my running, or any time I share the public. They conspire to inflict themselves on me. I just know it…

The Angry Morons. Probably don’t need much of an explanation on this one… Usually a pick-up truck… He’s angry, as you can see his lips moving (maybe he’s trying to read the traffic sign… Zing!) while he drives by. Of course he usually see’s my lips moving too as I offer salutations in kind! A cigarette and a NASCAR cap are an added bonus… I believe that they really don’t like themselves; They just take it out on us as we approach.

From a distance, they see us coming and think, “Baby, she’s cute! Those are some nice legs!” During the convergence, he realizes “that Honey” is a guy… He now has to grapple with his “catching gay” and boy that ain’t right… Not yet able to process the whole sequence of events, he resorts to the basest of all instincts (no not the sniffing the other dog’s butt, the other one)… He must exhibit hostility towards the offending party…

See we runners have already reconciled this phenomena… We will always look at another runner while we are out running, riding, driving, or whatever… Part of it is “sizing up other runners” while a lot of it is “Hey she has a nice… Arghhhh!! How ‘bout them Bears” I’m just saying…

Gramma/Grampa. Do I really have to write anything here? At this point in their lives they are either happy as sh_t (literally) that they are alive and driving, or angry as hell that they have to drag their own butts around town. Unlike Holland, not everyone has Freedom Village (home of the Senior Health Spa- “God wanted it that way”) and the affluent senior contingent.

In either case, I am convinced that these people are fully aware of what they are doing… I don’t buy for a New York minute that they are incoherent and out of touch. They survived the Cold War dammit. You think they don’t know how to get “it” done? C’mon! They drank martini’s, wore smoking jackets, drove cars without seat belts. Cars without power steering… Hell, they smoked!! While pregnant! Hell they did all of that sometimes at the same time!

I believe that they simply don’t give a crap… Do you really think that John Wayne would ever move over? Their logic is simply put: “Screw it. I’m old and “feeble”… Who’s gonna throw me in jail for vehicular manslaughter… I outlasted those Commy bastards in Russia! I've lived a full life... I’m just saying… You know it makes sense!


So anyway, now that I’m back on topic… I am out running and some tool drives right by without moving… I am by the State Park (see other posts) running on Harbor Drive… Mind you the road was empty (I think that I established that 20 minutes ago {reading time, certainly not writing time})… I break from my typical personality, being the reserved and recalcitrant type, and I yell at the driver… Of course, he proceeds to skid to a stop. and backs up along side me. The following exchange is had (I did not bring my Dictaphone so some of the details may be altered for literary purposes; No I am not making this up):

Him: “What’s yer problem?”
Me: “I have no problem, I’m just out running.”
Him: “I saw you yelling at me”
Me: “Yes I did… I am off my meds. You couldn’t give me 6 f’ing inches?”
Him: “I don’t have to give you or anyone six inches! Assh_le!”
Me: “Yeah I know that’s what your wife told me”

I then took off through the park… The only way for him to get me was to start running after me, or pull the gun out from under his seat and shoot me… Actually I realized that he could have waited for me by the parking lot near the boardwalk, so I backtracked down the beach and took an alternate route home… I’m not proud of it, and certainly this isn’t fitting with my attempt to keep this site PG-13… I will try and do better…

By the way, the title was originally for an article explaining that my car is in for service for a faulty thermostat and oil change… My mechanic hopes to have the work completed same-day… I am driving Mrs. Despeedstra’s van (no not my mom’s, my wife’s)… I almost had to drive the Fiat to work in 30 degree weather… I think I might need a spare car…
Don’t forget to thank the volunteers.

Rico