This post is about a big pet peeve of mine, but before I start on that......I love living in the country. My neighbors are friendly but acres away and it's so peaceful....no hectic city pace.
I wouldn't trade it for a different place to live.........but.........one thing just bugs me to no end.
Country roads consist of alot of county routes where the speed limit is 55mph. These roads are intersected by tons of dirt roads and other primary roads. When I'm driving down the county routes at 60 mph or so, it never fails....someone will pull up on one of these side roads, come to a complete stop, then sit there for a long time as I am approaching the interesction at 60 mph, then inexplicably, they will pull out when I'm 100 yards away. Do they hit the throttle and move out as if the devil is after them?
Hell no...they haven't a care in the world and 35 mph seems to be approaching Nascar speed for them.
This gives me a fit, so before/during and after braking, I am cursing like a new york cabbie.
I STILL haven't been able to figure out the logic behind this scenario, but it happens to me EVERY single day. I'm tempted to spray paint the front of my truck with this in bright orange : Caution, ma brakes ain't werkin!
Can any of y'all country folks relate?
I wouldn't trade it for a different place to live.........but.........one thing just bugs me to no end.
Country roads consist of alot of county routes where the speed limit is 55mph. These roads are intersected by tons of dirt roads and other primary roads. When I'm driving down the county routes at 60 mph or so, it never fails....someone will pull up on one of these side roads, come to a complete stop, then sit there for a long time as I am approaching the interesction at 60 mph, then inexplicably, they will pull out when I'm 100 yards away. Do they hit the throttle and move out as if the devil is after them?
Hell no...they haven't a care in the world and 35 mph seems to be approaching Nascar speed for them.
This gives me a fit, so before/during and after braking, I am cursing like a new york cabbie.
I STILL haven't been able to figure out the logic behind this scenario, but it happens to me EVERY single day. I'm tempted to spray paint the front of my truck with this in bright orange : Caution, ma brakes ain't werkin!
Can any of y'all country folks relate?