Friday, April 11, 2014

Poetic Justice, Black Cars and Big Cats

This post doesn't discuss art or jewelry making but it does address something many of us have experienced: a maniacal driver who's putting everyone else on the road in great danger. How many times have we witnessed outrageous behavior behind the wheel and thought, "Where are the police when you need them?"

Well, today I saw one of these supremely selfish, uncaring drivers get exactly what he deserved. (And no, he did not wrap himself around a phone pole.) Let me tell you, it was really sweet. There actually IS some justice in the world.

Hubs and I were coming back from the mountains, where we had enjoyed a most delightful visit to a very special museum. (I'll tell you all about this museum in my post on Monday.) We were driving home on Georgia Highway 20, a very busy highway, exceptionally busy on this late Friday afternoon. There was a mile long string of cars behind me as well as in front of me, all basically observing the posted speed limit of 45mph, give or take 5mph.

As we proceeded westbound, I glanced in my side mirror. To my shock and disbelief, I saw a motorcycle coming up on my left -- in the TURN lane -- traveling at an incredibly high rate of speed.

Now, if you are not familiar with turn lanes, they're an extra lane that's to be used only for turning, not traveling in. They're clearly marked as such so there is no mistaking their purpose. This motorcyclist clearly did not give a flip that he was traveling like a bat out of hell in a restricted lane. Nor that he was moving at better than twice as fast as the speed limit and the rest of the traffic. He, obviously, was far more important and special than anyone else. He blew past us all like we were standing still.

And then -- from out of nowhere -- there appeared a low profile solid black car with a strip of low profile  lights on top. It was in the oncoming lane, but suddenly and with almost animal-like agility braked, performed a well-practiced U turn over the median markers and went flying after Mr. Hotshot. Truly, it was a thing of beauty to behold. That sleek new patrol car looked like a black lynx going after a ground squirrel. You could almost hear collective shrieks of approval from every other driver on the road.

As we cruised past a gas station on the left, there was the motorcyclist at the pump. And pulled snug up right behind him was the Georgia State Patrol car, blue lights flashing merrily. Eat, big cat, eat!

©2014 Lynn Edwards


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