Topless Sixty One Year Old

Sixty one years ago, going around topless without a driving permit
would get you a stiff fine, maybe even a day or a night in jail.
….Now-a-days you don’t see this activity going on, at least not on any streets or lanes near our house.
…..I remember noticing it a lot when I was I kid but, nowadays, it takes more than a gorgeous, curvy body to turn my head.
….Well, if you added a little chrome accent it might help.
….Factor in a sweet & low rumbling sound and you definitely have my attention.
….I’m talking slow cruising convertibles here, the kind that let you experience the pleasant aromas of spring flowers and views of the sun setting after you
pulled over at the top of the hill.
….I suppose there’s a world like that somewhere; certainly not on the 10 or the 25. Slow down on one of these concrete raceways and you’ll get flattened so quick you’ll wonder what happened to the butter & syrup!
….My son and I were on our way to El Paso the other day, driving a little over the 65 posted limit heading south-east where the lane narrows, merging onto the eastbound 10. I alertly glanced in my rear view mirror making sure I was OK to merge when all of a sudden my view was replaced by huge white & aluminum blinds. I could even read with scary clarity the blind maker’s logo htrowneK!
….Blaugger, Blaugger! GET OUT OF MY WAY! It was trying to get my attention. It was working!
….So, naturally, I did the smartest thing, in total driving school defense, that I could think of. I tapped my brakes several times, a nice signal to the crazy idiot behind me to back-off. Worthless thing to do since there was no way the driver of the aluminum blind big-rig could see my little Odyssey over his long & towering hood, let alone my blinking stop lights.
….”IT” swung over my right lane to inching onto my right-quarter panel and started blasting “IT’s” Blaugger horn again, obviously not getting my well-intentioned request.
….The lane ahead cleared and I took off, now in the 75 MPH lane doing “slightly” over 75, toying with the “Traffic fines double zone”, hell, man I was ready to pay anything to out distance the big-rig’s self-imposed right of way & lane ownership.
….Boy, do I ever miss those lazy, laid back days cruising slowly through the country side in my little topless convertible back in 1955.

Disclaimer: 99.5 % of all of the professional big rig drivers I encounter are just that; pros, due my respect for putting up with the .05 % of the other psychopaths out there.