Do Not Be Alarmed

I’m on the road quite a bit with my job (hence the company car). There is a good chance one of you might see me on the road if you are out and about along the I-95 corridor here in the Southeast. For example I’m heading down to Jacksonville for a job today. Because there are such good odds that you might see me out there in your journeys at some point I wanted to give you a caution:

Do Not Be Alarmed.

If you happen upon me, say, waiting at an intersection for the light to change color, and you look over to see that I appear to be convulsing uncontrollably, shaking my head, flailing my arms around the car and screaming, maybe even to the point of tiny bit of spittle spraying about –  Do Not Be Alarmed. I am neither demon possessed nor suffering from a medical condition. What is going on in my car is a little ritual I refer to as “singing.” Everything is really OK in the lane next to you. Just consider yourself blessed that my windows are rolled up.

If you see me approaching and you happen to notice that I am talking on my cell phone while eating a biscuit, drinking a cup of hot coffee, changing the CD in the dash as I merge into rush hour traffic from the 25 MPH entry ramp without taking my cruise control off of 65 – Do Not Be Alarmed. I know you are there and I promise that I will miss your car by at least 12” as I slide past you to merge directly into the left lane.  You see I have undergone extensive training years ago by the US Navy during flight school to hone my skills at multitasking. Basically you could say I’m a trained professional. (Of course this skill doesn’t seem to apply to listening. I can only hear one thing at a time. Sorry Gorgeous. You are either going to have to turn that good song down or wait until it is over if you want me to hear what you are saying.)

If you happen to look in your rearview mirror and notice that you can’t see the hood of my car below your back window because I appear to be attempting to land my car inside your trunk – Do Not Be Alarmed. My eyes are fixated alternately on your brake lights an the traffic up ahead that I can see through your windshield while my brain is computing an improbably complex series of equations that involve such diverse and comprehensive variables as your vehicle’s velocity and acceleration, my foot position in relation to my accelerator/brake pedals, the current road surface moisture content, the proximity to the nearest rest stop, and the quantity of coffee remaining in my travel mug. Keep in mind that you could ease your own frustration significantly by simply sliding over into the right hand lane to let me pass. I assure you I’d get completely by you before you were even firmly established in the right lane. Besides, I’ve only ever rear-ended one person on I-95 and I wasn’t tailgating him.

That about sums it up for this morning. I’ve got to hit the road!