The Great Crossing

It was a blistering summer afternoon when my brother and his friend hatched a plan to set out upon an epic journey to obtain the most sought after item for any child. Yes, that item was called candy. This amazing plan consisted of the two neighbor boys, my brother Scott, and I traveling on foot to the nearest market in search of this allusive sugary delight we so greatly desired.  Our fellowship consisted of my brother and his friend Todd, who were both 8, along with my rather hefty friend Kelly and me who were both the ripe old age of 6.



Here we see the typical 6 year old boy in the wild.

As we discussed the great distance to the nearest store, called Y.J.’s Market, my brother came up with an outstanding strategy for saving precious time. You see, the market was on the other side of the interstate from our house and the excursion would involve traveling down to the underpass that was a mile east, cross under the interstate, and then travel the mile back west to the market. His superb plan was to cut across the freeway directly to the market. Brilliant!  So like Arthur’s knights in their search for the Holy Grail we too set off upon our epic journey.



What could possibly go wrong?  Right?

As luck would have it Todd and Kelly’s house was backed up against the freeway and their father had stacked cut logs along the fence making perfect step.  Once we reached the top of the fence we just hurled ourselves over the top and landed on the south shoulder of the interstate. I often wondered what the faces of the motorists passing by must have looked like as they saw the four of us lined up on the side of the asphalt waiting for them to pass so we can play human Frogger across the traffic lanes. How many 911 calls were actually made that afternoon will forever remain a mystery.

Once we saw a gap in the traffic flow we made a break for it.  As I ran across the lanes of traffic time slowed down and I swore I could hear the Chariots of Fire theme song in the background, although that could have come from the passing Honda that almost took out Todd. My brother and his friend ran faster followed closely behind by myself with portly Kelly pulling up the rear. When we made it to the large, grassy median we paused for a moment to catch our breaths and waited to make our final push to the opposite fence. Seconds later we were off again!  Meer feet from the side of the freeway I heard a shriek from behind and spun to see my gravitationally challenged friend trip and fall face first into the fast lane bouncing as he came to rest on the white dotted line. 

You can't prove that was us.

I distinctly remember seeing a maroon car blazing towards us with its horn blaring as I ran back into the roadway to pick up my stout friend Kelly. There were tires squealing and cars swerving while I dragged him to safety. I equate this sudden burst of might to the strength a mother finds to lift a burning car off her child. There I was, a loving mother dragging my obese child through the number two lane to safety. Finally, after what seemed like forever we reached the other side only to find Todd and my brother up against the fence laughing uncontrollably at the certain doom that was unfolding before them.

"LOL! He fell in the street... oh stop... I can't handle it!"

After we crawled through the barbed wire fence that led us away from the interstate, Kelly getting stuck twice of course, we made it to our objective; the candy isle at Y.J.’s Market. Once we had gorged ourselves on our sweet bounty we reviewed the first half of our journey and concluded that, for the return trip, we should probably take the long way around instead of risking Kelly almost dying again. This rational mostly likely came upon us because we were no longer in a candy-frenzy and were able to think rationally like normal 6 and 8 year olds.

Child logic dictates that there is no such thing as too much sugar.

I often look back on this story with fond memories.  Not only did I feast on fistfuls of candy but I also was a hero that day.  I don’t know where Kelly is now but I’m sure he is on his knees right now thinking God for my heroics.  To all those small children out there that are reading this account of my life let this story be a cautionary tale.  My lesson to you is this: Do not risk your life by running across a busy interstate in search of temporary pleasure if you are prone to falls or too large to make it through the barbed wire fence on the other side of the interstate.



The Land of Bad Drivers

I live in the land of inept drivers. I know there are other far off lands where drivers pilot their vehicles with skill and grace because I have seen pictures have seen them on television, but I do not live in one of these places. I reside where drivers either do not ever bother to read and understand the driving manual or these drivers simply do not care about anyone else on the road but themselves.  The truth regarding these drivers may be something completely different.

Bad drivers will strike where you least expect them.

My drive to work is a 30 minute commute that consists mainly of freeway travel with a small fraction of surface streets thrown in.  Needless to say, I see my share of drivers.  Today, moments after I entered the freeway, I encountered one of these drivers that I will call the Pace Car. The Pace Car drives the speed limit in the left lane and will never, I repeat, never drive in the right lane. Now, where I live, all vehicles are to drive in the right lane unless passing. It is the law. This particular person entered the freeway and immediately changed lanes into the left lane, set the cruise control to the speed limit and ignored the approximate half mile traffic jam of people waiting to get by.



I have plans to install these this fall.

Is the Pace Car somehow unaware of the law and so oblivious that they missed the two signs they drove by stating said law or do they just not care about anyone else on the road, thus requiring anyone traveling at a higher speed to go around them in the right lane? I believe the answer to this question is none of the above. The answer lies in the second driver I encountered today.

A woman I came across the other day.
After I honked and yelled out the window she finally moved over.

Halfway through my commute I came upon some construction that required traffic to merge into one lane. Where I live the vast majority of people start to merge as soon as they see the “Left Lane Ends” sign. These people will start to merge into the other lane upwards to a mile ahead of the actual lane ending. In California, where I have spent most of my adult life, cars merged when the lanes merged. These two ideologies create conflict among some drivers. These drivers I will call “Hall Monitors.”

I will have no merry-making in this hallway. None!

The self-appointed position of the Hall Monitor makes it their duty to ensure everyone merges a mile up the road as they did. This driver will steer his car so it straddles both lanes of traffic so that no one will be able to pass him unless they drive off the road and therefore they will be forced to merge behind the Hall Monitor. I have seen variations of the Hall Monitor strategy by different drivers over the years. At times I will witness the Pace Car strategy being implemented by the Hall Monitor who will pull out into the lane that is to merge over and drive at the same pace as the other cars thus cutting off the entire lane forcing a "virtual merge". The most dangerous of the strategies used by the Hall Monitors is to swerve into passing cars to scare any other vehicle into not passing him. This is what I call the “I’m going to show my dominance by humping your lane” strategy.  These drivers would rather put the safety of every driver around them in jeopardy in order to make others submit.

Yes, I AM the self appointed ruler of everyone.  Why?

I believe that these two drivers, the Pace Car and the Hall Monitor, feel such a need to follow the laws that they suppose it's their duty to make sure everyone else follows them as well.  Now don’t get me wrong I am always a fan of following the rules, I drive the speed limit and in the right lane, but I do not feel the need to force everyone else to submit to the same rules I follow as if I was Kruschev ruling over the fast lane with an iron fist.

Of course some rule with a tiny iron fist.

These are not the kind of people you want in any kind of authoritative position. Let’s imagine a leader that feels an overwhelming conviction and forces everyone submit to them. Nazis anyone? Both the Christians and the Muslims felt the need to do this very thing between the 600s and the 1200s.  Well, the Muslims leaders still feel the need to make their subjects submit in the Middle Eastern countries.

...said the woman who will be stoned if she says otherwise.

Telling others about your convictions is a great thing. Forcing your convictions on others is a great tragedy. Today's lesson:  Do not be a Hall Monitor and cram your convictions down other's throats as if you are trying to force feed medication to a dog.  No matter how much ground beef you put it in people are still going to spit it out.

A Trip to the Market

At the age of seven a boy’s interest in candy has really kicked into full speed. The scrumptiousness of milk chocolate is quite difficult to resist at that age and apparently at any age for women as my wife has repeatedly informed me. Chocolate for my wife is placed high of her revised Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs nestled between Esteem and Self-Actualization. I once tried to explain to her that chocolate was a want and not a need. All I remember is a flurry of tears and “You just don’t understand” statements.

More women need to come with a warning attached to them.

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon when my brother and I received our one dollar allowances from our parents. A wise child would quickly take this money and put it in their piggy bank so they could purchase a really nice toy after several months of saving. I, on the other hand, was not a wise child and was bound and determined to spend every last cent on candy. The two kids from across the street (a kindergartner and a 2nd grader), along with my brother and I (3rd and 1st graders respectively), decided we were going to obtain and then eat candy.

Must... have!

We had two choices. The first choice was a three mile bicycle trip to the AM/PM, purchase candy and ride safely back. The second choice, brought up by my brother, was to go to a local market called YJ’s Foods that was located directly across the interstate from our houses. The idea was to strategically cross the interstate by foot, purchase the candy, and safely return back home before any parent knew what we had done. We did what any responsible children would do and set off across the interstate.

Why does Hawaii have an interstate?

Their house backed up to the freeway so all we had to do was stack firewood against the fence to create a makeshift stairway to get our stubby little bodies over. It was particularly difficult for our friend Kelly as he was almost as wide as he was tall. We decided the three of us would just get behind him and shove him over. This really must have looked odd to the motorists passing by on the interstate as they saw a six year old fat kid flop over the wall like a sack of rice.

With all that "muscle" you would think he could have pulled himself over the fence.

As we all stood at the edge of the precipice we waited for my brother to start the charge. As my brother yelled all four of us ran across the two lanes of traffic to the median and paused to regroup. I looked over and noticed Kelly was on his hands and knees trying to catch his breath as if he had just finished an Ironman triathlon. Pulling Kelly up to his feet my brother yelled again and we ran across the other two lanes of the freeway.

Kelly would have died halfway across this one.

As soon as I crossed over I turned my head only to see Kelly trip and fall. To this day I have still never seen anyone bounce quite like that before. He came to a stop just five feet from the side of the road with a look of terror on his face as if someone had just informed him the person in front of him in line had just purchased the last bear claw. Accompanied by the sound of tires screeching and horns blasting Kelly made it to his feet and somehow managed to make it across.

The look of someone who is about to be hit by a car.

Once we arrived at YJ’s Foods we purchased our candy and wisely decided to take the long way back home as the color had not yet returned to Kelly’s face, not to mention he was still shaking and talking to himself. Our family moved four months later and Kelly never spoke of the incident as long as we lived there. Today I imagine his hefty body lying on a couch trying to explain to a psychologist how he was almost ran over by a 78 Dodge in a desperate attempt to obtain a Whatchamacallit bar.

My parents found out about the freeway crossing incident when my brother and I were reminiscing about it in high school. Apparently the statute of limitations on leading an expedition across the interstate to get candy had not yet run out. Who would have thought spankings would still sting a little at age 16.