Last Dance with Mary Jane

My best friend pointed out after reading a recent newsletter piece I wrote that those who don't know me better might think I'm a bit tense, edgy and in need of some time off.

"Yeah, so what's the point?" I snapped.

The point was that appearances at least suggest all is not perfect in Dave's World. I myself catch glimpses that maybe I'm wound a bit too tight these days. The first sign usually comes early in my day as I drive to work. It probably is not a good sign that on my journey to the office I end up becoming mighty mad at about half a dozen other drivers. Is it my fault I witness at the very least three traffic violations before 7:00am?

Can somebody please tell me what the deal is with headlights?! Is there some kind of contest that I'm not aware of, where the last one to keep their lights off, wins a prize? As I see it (and admittedly often I simply don't), a car's lights serves two purposes: one is to help you see better in the dark or during inclement conditions and the other is to allow others to see you better. To me, there isn't anything cool about driving around in the dark without your lights. Maybe I'm wrong.

And what is the deal with lackadaisical, inconsistent, haphazard use of turn signals? This is my biggest pet peeve. You're driving along, when suddenly the car in front of you slows down, and without warning turns on to another avenue. Is it that much of an effort to hit the little lever? There are those who don't want you to know where they are going, but using a turn signal isn't a mere formality, it's the freaking law. Damn it.

I'll be the first to admit I may not be the best person to put behind a moving metal vehicle during rush hour amongst your average Minnesota driver (if we can call them that). I either have to learn how to relax in traffic or I'll blow a gasket before my sputtering car does. Yet it ain't exactly a contest out there. It isn't about who can drive fastest, who can survive without following all the rules. It is about safety. And I think we all can be more alert and better drivers. I'm starting right here. If we can do nothing other than all try to be better drivers, the world would still be a better place.

But you know... I was talking to another friend of mine who suggested I may never be fully happy until I hit the road again. She suggested I get my plan together by the summer of 1995. We got on the subject because I was waxing nostalgic about the dream job Charles Kuralt was walking away from. Even my own father thought that would be a perfect occupation for my psyche. I guess I operate on the "grass is always greener" philosophy. I may never pitch in the big leagues, I may never be a major force for social change. All those dreams of my childhood, in hindsight, seem rather dorky these days. But part of my heart has kept a perpetual eye on the road and the wanderlust in my spirit makes it hard to stay in one place for too long. What's holding me back? Sharing the road with too many other irritants.

Confession time- being the good Episc 'o' palian I am. The all time worst episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation has stuck in my craw. What the hell is the deal with Wesley Crusher's evolution beyond being a human? The wonder kid has of course advanced to some sort of time traveler that is superior to the rest of us mere three dimensional beings. I always thought my dislike for Wes was rationally based on his being the very definition of Wiener Boy extraordinaire, but now there is a more serious basis for my hatred: pure jealousy. Wes is now the ultimate traveler, the ultimate Charles Kuralt as it were, and that's hard to swallow. It's like watching the girl that just dumped you, become the homecoming queen. YUK. Talk about stealing the boom out of the old thunder.