it’s like wildebeests
January 13, 2009
While we were driving back from Mexico, we spent lots of time on two lane mountain roads. Every few miles the road would present a passing lane, where those in a hurry could get around those who were not.
Each time we would come upon a passing lane, I would try to remember, where have I seen that kind of behavior before? I wondered aloud, I scratched my head, I racked my brain. (Don’t talk to me about “wrack vs rack.” What, you think I didn’t look that up? You think I’d give you that kind of ammunition? This ain’t my first rodeo, sister.)
Finally, it hit me: people rushing to get around slower cars in the passing lane on mountain roads are like backcountry skiers trying to pass a slower group on their way to the untracked powder.
Ha ha ha. No, really.
But MORE than like backcountry skiers, mountain road passing lane passers remind me of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. Specifically, wildebeests, trying to get out of a steeply-banked, croc-infested river.
I don’t know why knowing that is comforting to me.
People who get let into a crowded freeway by a neighborly driver only to then close out other mergers are like a hearts player who dumps his last high spade and then immediately starts smoking the queen.
And mountain road passing lane passers are like crazy wildebeests chased out of a river by hungry crocodiles.
And you thought all I did was talk about poop.