Sitting on I 40...stopped. Slowly we moved up to the cause of the slowdown. Three State Highway Patrol cars were stopped in the middle of two lanes behind a semi that was in obvious distress. One trooper was talking to a man I presumed to be the driver while the other two stared at the truck. Three lanes of Sunday afternoon traffic were left to fend for themselves.
There were the usual jerks who jumped in front of everyone, making their own space by daring the other drivers to bend metal in the "three lanes down to one" melee. Then I realized what was going on...Instead of the troupers turning around and directing traffic around the wreck, they were watching a dogfight.
Fighting chickens and dogs is ugly business but it darned sure goes on all over this country, though more so in certain places and less in others. ( I just said that to be politically correct and give myself an out in case some irate chamber of commerce type confronts me, I've dealt with way too many Chamber types in the last week to feel good about them but why cause myself more problems, right? For you Chamber types who read this blog...I didn't mean you, silly..)
So the troopers, who never watch chickens attalck each other in seedy little tin roof and board pits down in Rhea County have turned to traffic events for entertainment. Wonder why it takes four of them to write a ticket for a headlight being out? They like to block up a couple of lanes and watch the fights break out.
Little old lady's will flip off a pro wrestler in certain situations, Sunday afternoon on I 40 with three lanes of cross country traffic trying to slither through one lane is perfect... guaranteed to provide hours of fun for a State Trooper on a boring summer day. No reason whatsoever for the two troopers who are chatting each other up and laughing to turn around and help referee a perfectly good game of interstate chicken.
As I sat there I noticed that the dash board thermometer had gone from 78 degrees to 89 and the radio told me that the oil in Iraq reserves has gone from being worth two trillion dollars at 17 bucks a barrel to 9 Trillion at 70 bucks a barrel. So why is Bush so reluctant to load up and leave? I switched to bluegrass as I waved to the troopers and got back up to highway speed.
An hour later, a hundred yards before the driveway, a bird flew up from the road and veered back and forth in front of me. I looked for the wing bars of the chuck will's widow and though about how large these night birds are. Turning up the hill onto the gravel drive I rolled into home as the last light of the day faded, fed the dogs the remnants of my road food supper, and wandered into the house for a few hugs. I'll check on the garden tomorrow morning.
There's a glass of wine and some conversation waiting inside the house.