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Saturday, January 9, 2010

bruce johnson, super slueth

      I have an affinity for the line if you don’t like the way I drive; stay off the sidewalk. It sounds funny to me, but I like to use it when I make a boneheaded driving mistake. I also use whoopsie doopsie. (Stolen from my son Chris) In the right situation it makes the near avoidance of an accident seem a trifle bit less tenuous. It can take the edge off the tense afterglow of the near miss, even if you are saying it to only yourself.
      I also am a very observant. I know what is happening all around me when I am driving. Well, really at all times, because as we all know I am a Multi-tasking Machine! My awesome powers of observation seem to end immediately where the aura of a woman begins, but that is the subject of another blog. Or a…..what was I talking about?
     Driving is a challenge for some people. I drive way too much for that to be a reality, but it is. Some drives are more of an adventure than others. This past week was no exception. With the two plus hour trip home on Thursday, I can say with authority that there are quite a few drivers that drive worse than me, because I observed the fact that they were in the ditch or their cars were mating and I was not. For some of you that may be a stretch, or embellishment, but in my reality, I am not terrible. A little de-stracted, at times, but not super scary….
     Browndog needed to go out to drop a deuce. I took him out. As we walked uphill on the sidewalk to the drop destination I saw a rather odd trench running nearly parallel to the sidewalk. Brown-brown wandered off to the perfect pooping spot. It must have been the perfect spot as it took him five minutes to find where to drop a deuce. Then he wandered hell’s half acre while pooping. I cannot wait until spring for all those Browndog bombs to be visible after the thaw. And the bouquet, the aroma of a drop destination minefield is like no other. No matter, it won’t be me poop scooping, because as we all know that is why you have children, to clean up the sh!t .
      As we were walking back downhill the side walk I noticed that the trench appeared to be a tire track to the street side of the sidewalk. Seeing the alleged tire track made me decide to do some NCIS investigating. Well, not really, but some sleuthing needed to be done. Someone may or may not have been driving down the sidewalk. That some one was not me. I did not get drunk last night away from the house, so I was not drunk driving on the sidewalk. I also did not have a narcoleptic driving experience, so the obvious was this ludcrosity was perpetrated by some other culprit. However, I was still not sure what I was looking at. It sure looked like a tire track.
     As I put on my “As seen on T.V.” High Definition Wrap Around sunglasses, a cool Christmas gift from my wife, I noticed the tread design. More correctly, I noted the distinct lack of tread design. As a side bar, with these glasses on, even the Lions do not look quite like a 2-14 team. I know because I wore them while watching the Lions nearly beat the Cardinals.
     I admit I was tempted to go get a bag of Plaster Of Paris, and make a casting of the tread, to fully engage in my super-sleuthing, but I decided it was a bit too cold to introduce water to the equation, and my feet were already cold. The cold and the fact that I do not have any plaster negated that idea, but I guess I could have used some 5-minute mud as a substitute. Whatever….
      Curriouser and Curriouser, I walked up the hill to the rather odd shaped pile of snow just to the left of the side walk. This pile of snow had several tire tracks leading to and away from it, leaving me to ponder another one of my favorite Diehardisms, “Who’s driving this car, Stevie Wonder?” to be honest it looked like some one was doing one of those patented “Bruce Johnson 17 point turns”
     I investigated further, by walking out to the road by following the incoming tracks. My innate Sherlockian reflexes lead me to the deduction that the car entered from the road. The lack of tread on the tires of the suspects vehicle, were the culprit.
     The driveway up the hill was the entry point; unfortunately the driver missed the driveway and exited by driving 250 feet down the sidewalk and exiting thru my driveway. I know that is what I would say if it were me. I am sure they were saying or screaming as they trundled embarrassedly down the sidewalk, “If you don’t like the way I drive; stay off the sidewalk.”
Just another day in paradise

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