Take Me Home, Country Roads...

I live out in the middle of nowhere, I'm sure I've mentioned this before. I am surrounded by a lot of two-lane country roads, and I have to drive those roads in order to get to the interstates that will get me to work. And let me tell you something, it's been a bit of an adventure.

For starters, the good folks that live out here seem to think speed limits are pretty much optional. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm no angel when it comes to driving, and I've been known to have a lead foot, especially on a straight-away. But most days when I'm out driving, it's almost like every NASCAR fan is on the road trying to live out his dream, but doing it in a pick-up truck. Case in point, this morning, on my way to work about 8:30 or so, some dude in a humongous pick-up comes racing up on my tail end. I was doing 60 mph in a 55 zone. He then proceeds to pass me, and I realize that not only is he driving a diesel truck, he's also hauling a trailer carrying an ATV. He flipped me off as he zoomed past. So much for legendary southern hospitality.

Now, I can hear all you die-hard southerners out there, yelling at me to "go back home if I don't damn well like it", but this was just one example of the weirdness that was my commute today. On my way home, I'm sitting at a stop sign, waiting to turn on to Highway 80, which will take me through Bloomingdale, and so on home. Just as I was about to pull out, Miss Piggy on a giant Harley decides she wants to turn left across my path. And she really did look like Miss Piggy. She had long blond hair, a turned up nose, and she was so sunburned, she was pink. A hog on a hog, if you will. Once I passed the Muppet Show on Wheels, I turned down Ga. Hwy 17. Just a few miles down the road, and driving past the elementary school, two guys on horses came trotting down the lane, perilously close to the pavement. To be fair, there wasn't much of a shoulder on this stretch of road, but it is a main highway, and I'm just not used to sharing the road with livestock. At least one of them was nice enough to tip his hat.

The final little straw, though, was once I turned onto the road that my house is off of, I got stuck behind a parade of classic cars, all headed to a show at our local rural winery. And they were all going about 35. Did I mention that I live in the middle of nowhere? I live in rural Effingham County, and I still managed to get behind a convoy.

Yeah, I know, first I'm complaining that everybody drives too fast, and now I'm moaning about only doing 35 mph. But that's okay, it just means I'm trying hard to fit in.