Training is going well so far. I drove to an airport in the wee morning hours for the second time in as many days. Both trips cranked up near the top of the five o’clock hour, which is great because traffic and cops are scarce then. Monday’s trip involved returning Scotty B to Hobby for his flight back to NYC’s Lower East Side, and today I shipped out to InterGalactic for a day trip to Dallas.
On Monday, the closure of I-45 South due to a chemical spill forced me to take to the downtown surface streets. Ain’t no thang. I have played Grand Theft Auto enough to know how to drive down a sidewalk when necessary and scare the shit of pedestrians but not kill anyone. Plus, Houston still has the high speed asphalt that was installed a few years ago for the Houston Texaco Grand Prix. A 40 mile round trip in 50 minutes, including the little detour. Not too shabby.
Today’s trip was even more better (yes, that is proper grammar; look for it in the soon to be released JB el JB’s 21st Century Rules of Grammar for Pissing Off Rhetoric Nerds). The Loop was wide open this morning as I departed FPR en route to InterGalactic save for the one lady in the SUV who was applying eye make-up while creeping down the concrete. Do that shit at home or when you’re in gridlock not when the lanes are wide open. Here’s a thought: if you hauled ass to the office, you could put your make up on the bathroom or your office. Alas, I digress.
A fluid 610 yielded a more barren Hardy Toll Road. I do love me some toll roads. It don’t get no better (shut it, nerd) than multiple lanes of grooved concrete and an EZ Tag. If motorists are willing to pay a toll to drive on a road, then they should be allowed to go as fast as they want. So, that’s what I did. I raced my way down the straight away and through the Greens Road toll plaza until I caught up with some cars that were about to go a lap down.
Clearly driving on the NASCAR circuit is tougher than civilian driving, but at least those folks are on the track with people who’s thumbs and heads are not firmly ensconced in rectal tissue. If only everyone knew that a race was in progress. Maybe I should equip The Heater with a scrolling LED sign that says GTFOMW in reverse lettering. The Heater still sliced through the crowd of wheeled monoliths handily taking the checkered flag with ease.
Normally my Race to the Airport victories only offer a few extra minutes to stop into the President’s Club for some free papers and vodka tonics. Today was special. Today the parking gods recognized my AJ Foyt like prowess by awarding me Pole Position Parking. Here’s the photo to prove it. The E Terminal security checkpoint lies through those glass doors and 20 yards to the left.
I had time for a shoe shine and a trip to the PC to track down some OJ and the papers, the papers. Name that movie and I’ll boil you some crawfish.
Incidentally, I have emailed my state legislator and federal representatives requesting that bump drafting be made legal on interstates. I only hope that this gets passed before April 27th so that I can get some practice in before the road trip to ‘Dega.
3 comments:
My boy, you ARE getting into the NeckCar!!! I can't wait to see how you are AFTER Dega!!
this is by far my most favoritest (fuck you grammar geeks) JB post ever! sometimes it scares me that our brains are so insync!
i am pricing the scrolling LED light for Morticia....
ps - F1 racing is thee ONLY form of racing worth recognizing.
JB -
Your life has been very entertaining lately! Are you really coming over my way to go to THE Superspeedway?!
Post a Comment