It’s the small things that count. Little gestures can go a long way. There are few things that get the day off to a good start because something always goes wrong. Traffic for no apparent reason: you pass the point of congestion and other than too many cars waiting to turn at a very shortly timed traffic light, there doesn’t appear to be an adequate source for the monster pile-up extending two miles back. Pedestrians leap out into the crosswalk. Bicyclists aren’t paranoid enough and don’t turn to see how close they are to you. But, let’s not relive each other’s commuting woes.
The last leg of my drive in to work today was filled to the brim with motorvehicles, so I decided to exit the highway and take the local path. I checked the right side mirror, the blind spot, while having the right turn signal clacking, but I couldn’t tell at first if the motorcyclist in the right lane was slowing down to let me in or not. I determined that he was far enough away and decelerating sufficiently to let me change lanes. I waved my right hand between the front seat headrests. He waved back.
To whomever that motorcyclist was, who also took the Cheshire Bridge exit from 85 south at about 8AM, thank you for thanking me.
It’s not even Memorial Day and I’m already thinking about the Atlanta Falcons’ 2010 season, not so much about whether or not they’ll perform better than last year.* Rather, I’m envisioning my Sunday ritual of sitting in front of the TV writing about games for eight hours. Fullback Ovie Mughelli with former Vice President Al Gore?!
*Oh, but I do hope they do better. Meet and surpass all expectations from themselves, the fans, and the league.
I it is always nice to hear about a good driving experience. Nice post.
Thanks. Now, if only something can be done about traffic lights that are juxtaposed against a rising or setting sun such that it’s impossible to know color is lit.
Nice Falcons tire cover.
And I think that’s the first picture where I’m posing next to it too.
I rode my twelve speed Panasonic for years to work in San Diego. For the most part, an excellent experience, but other times, a .45 would have been a handy accoutrement. I think I encountered both the best and worst of drivers, with some of the worst not caring if they ran you over. I learned hard and fast how to avoid road ragers.
I’m more likely to let a motorcyclist have the right of way than any other operator of heavy transporting machinery.