|Tuesday, February 5th, 2002|
8:19p - Rush Hour
Today's rush hour traffic was the worst I've seen around here.
I left for school about twenty to eight. In the first six miles, I met one car.
When I turned onto Highway 2, the main east-west highway in the southern tier of counties, I met another car, and saw two others two miles away at the junction with the road leading down to Seymour.
Turning onto that road, I met another car in the first mile, two more in the second, one in the third, and none in the fourth, but once I reached the city limits, I met three in quick succession, one within a few car's lengths of the other.
Looking ahead to the railroad crossing, I saw the flicker of the tail lights of the car I'd seen turn off Highway 2 up at the corner.
Next I saw them light as he stopped at the busiest intersection in town -- the Casey's corner before he turned toward the school and was lost from sight.
When it came my turn to approach the intersection, I was appalled. "Cowboy Up" a red pick-up, was coming up fast on my right, and did NOT stop for the stop sign until the back of his cab was abreast of it.
A white pick-up pulled out of Casey's and hit the intersection across from me. A dark car pulled up from the school's direction.
Imagine! A car at each stop sign, simultaneously. Now, that is a sight rarely seen around here.
Everyone was on somebody's right. Everyone waited. Finally, the white pick-up went, turning in at the barber shop. The dark car went. Cowboy Up still hesitated, until another truck pulled up behind him. Since he was on my right, I waited. He waited, probably from embarrassment at having sloughed the stop sign during rush hour.
Finally he went. I looked cautiously at the truck behind him to be sure he would really honor the stop sign, then took my turn.
I hate driving in traffic, even when it's polite.
current mood: chipper
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