Silly Philly drivers

I have heard many complaints about driving in California.

Freeway drivers, some people say, are crazy in the Golden State. And urban traffic is terrible, I have heard.

No one who complains about driving in California has driven in Philadelphia. The traffic on the highways in this town fit well with every description I have read of the start of the Oklahoma Land Rush, except today’s cars are faster than the horses the pioneers had. It’s wild here. I feel nervous without a roll cage. Heck, I’d feel nervous with a roll cage.

And city driving? Wow. Signal lights here are largely decorative. They serve little purpose because many drivers and virtually all the pedestrians you see ignore them.

“Oh look,” the locals seem to say as they step off the sidewalk in the middle of the block. “The light is red. How quaint.”

A driver here needs a video camera with a point-counting application. How else can you keep count of every accident you avoid?

An up-dater for some previous blogs:

Puffball, the feline vampire, passed away this week. He was 18 human years old.

We knew his time was coming and I spent about 45 minutes with him the day before he died. I kept petting him and telling him that it was okay to let go. True to his nature, he waited for me to leave town, then died in the middle of the garage floor. Amy had to take time off from work to call the city animal control officer.

Yes, I am aware that my pick for the winner of the Indianapolis 500 was wrong.

That said, I thought the race was terrific. It looks as though the new car design is a very racy piece of work.

I think it should be said that the broadcast of the race was well done, too.

Thanks for reading.