notes on driving a.k.a. birds don't signal
today, i was driving back to the office because my job in the bronx had finished early for the day. the traffic was moving smoothly on the grand central parkway, but by no means was i the only car on the road. i was in the middle lane, going by the american airlines terminal of laguardia airport, when i looked over to see a snow-white bird flying level with my car in the right lane. i'm not sure if it was an albino pigeon or a dove (if they even have them in queens). transfixed for a moment, i watched the bird flapping wildly, trying to keep pace with the motorists.
when i am on the sidestreets, i slam on the brakes when a bird or squirrel is trying to cross. then i yell at them, "what are you guys trying to give me a heart attack?!"
one way to become my mortal enemy on the highways and byways of new york is to drive like a complete jerk and have a vanity license plate. because then whatever dumb thing you have chosen to represent you and your automobile to the world will become my favorite epithet to shout at you (with my windows rolled up). "oh yeah, hotshot69, that was real hot when you wouldn't let me in, you filthy jackal." "zibzub? zibzub?! i don't even know what the fuck that means. anyway, thanks, for cutting me off, zibzub, you wretched scoundrel."
my favorite is when i have the oldies station on, with my right hand on the wheel around five o'clock, and with my left hand i thoughtfully stroke my beard. i should bring a micro-cassette recorder with me at these times, because i think of some really amazing things. the other day i had a whole music video mapped out for queen's "we are the champions". it involves triumphant pirates, with a hint of humor and a touch of sadness.
when i am on the sidestreets, i slam on the brakes when a bird or squirrel is trying to cross. then i yell at them, "what are you guys trying to give me a heart attack?!"
one way to become my mortal enemy on the highways and byways of new york is to drive like a complete jerk and have a vanity license plate. because then whatever dumb thing you have chosen to represent you and your automobile to the world will become my favorite epithet to shout at you (with my windows rolled up). "oh yeah, hotshot69, that was real hot when you wouldn't let me in, you filthy jackal." "zibzub? zibzub?! i don't even know what the fuck that means. anyway, thanks, for cutting me off, zibzub, you wretched scoundrel."
my favorite is when i have the oldies station on, with my right hand on the wheel around five o'clock, and with my left hand i thoughtfully stroke my beard. i should bring a micro-cassette recorder with me at these times, because i think of some really amazing things. the other day i had a whole music video mapped out for queen's "we are the champions". it involves triumphant pirates, with a hint of humor and a touch of sadness.