As has become my near daily tradition, I depart our home at 6:30 a.m.
for cardio rehab at the Dulin Center. The morning drive up our driveway
is always full of surprises: a wild turkey may run into the woods, an
owl or a hawk may fly by, and in warmer seasons I may stop to either
move or allow a turtle or snake to cross the drive. Once I reach Old
John’s Road it is rare to see an automobile. In warmer days I’m more
likely to see a neighbor out for his or her early morning walk.
Then, turning left and heading north into town, I slowly accelerate my Prius in order to maximize its fuel efficiency. Rarely is there a car coming up behind me. My frugal nature has proven that taking the 9- mile round trip consumes just 25 or less ounces of gasoline, or less than 1/5 of a gallon.
The peaceful drive on our country road is never without surprises. Everything from an occasional deer, raccoon, fox, or just simply watching the changes in the seasons are there to digest.
Earlier this month, I drove — taking Lizi on one of our Daddy-Daughter Days — to Raleigh to visit her cousin Sarah and later to attend a Duke basketball game.
U.S. 1 from Sanford to Raleigh ain’t exactly a country road, but it could be worse. The speed limit is either 70 or 90, depending upon the driver (who reads signs?) and if you ain’t driving at least 70, it is because the driver behind you knocked you and your car into a ditch.
My knuckles were white as I tightly gripped the steering wheel and focused totally upon the road ahead, behind, and beside. These drivers are in a different world. Any wildlife venturing close to this road will become immediate road kill or disintegrated in an instant.
My next driving lesson started when we approached “The Beltline” or Interstate 440 at Raleigh. Certainly the full moon was shining somewhere, as possessed animals were driving every other automobile. Turn signals were nowhere to be seen, as they changed lanes on a whim! Somehow a six-wheel pickup truck — with its tailgate down — found room to sneeze in the 10- or 12-foot space between us and the car up front — again, with everyone going at least 70 miles per hour.
Seeing that our exit, Glenwood Avenue, was approaching a general feeling of ease and relief swept over me. The driving foolishness would soon be behind me.
WRONG!
As the traffic light on the exit ramp off of the Beltline turned green and we were the first car to make the left turn, one more car on Glenwood Avenue decided that they had enough time to beat us through the intersection. Ten more feet and it would not have been pretty.
That driver proved to be our Glenwood Avenue orientation. Every driver on that drag strip/demolition derby road was possessed by the Evil Driver Demon!
Finally, Creedmoor Road approached and what I thought to be relief quickly became a reverent prayer. I eased into the right lane for my right turn ahead onto Millbrook Road only to discover what every local driver knew and every visitor didn’t: there were orange and white barrels blocking the right lane ahead as work on a new Harris-Teeter Super Market commenced.
Turning on my left signal in vain attempt to merge we slowed to 20, then 15, then 5 miles per hour in vain hopes that someone would let us merge. Fat chance!
Remember, turn signals mean nothing in Raleigh!
Coming to a complete stop in the right lane just a few feet from a barrel, a small opening appeared behind us in the left lane and the little Prius — the fuel efficient automobile — proved that it could act like a 472 cubic inch V-8 engine was under the hood. Twenty-five ounces of gasoline SEVERAL TIMES OVER were consumed to make that abrupt move into the left lane and in front of another driving maniac.
By the grace of God we arrived at our destination — where it took several minutes to pry my fingers off of the steering wheel and wipe the frozen and frightened look off of my face.
Thankfully, I’m a quick learner: If you can’t beat them, join them. For a later shopping run and a trip to and from Duke University I drove like a complete maniac, or in other words, just like a seasoned city driver.
Now, we’re back home unscathed. Old John’s Road is quiet as always, and the air is fresh and clear. As Lizi surprised me upon stepping out of the Prius: “Ah-h, smell that! The air smells so good back home!”
Very true, and here I will not kill anyone, die of road rage generated stress, nor have to stay inside for safety.
That’s real country living Scotland County style, so let’s count our blessings!
Then, turning left and heading north into town, I slowly accelerate my Prius in order to maximize its fuel efficiency. Rarely is there a car coming up behind me. My frugal nature has proven that taking the 9- mile round trip consumes just 25 or less ounces of gasoline, or less than 1/5 of a gallon.
The peaceful drive on our country road is never without surprises. Everything from an occasional deer, raccoon, fox, or just simply watching the changes in the seasons are there to digest.
Earlier this month, I drove — taking Lizi on one of our Daddy-Daughter Days — to Raleigh to visit her cousin Sarah and later to attend a Duke basketball game.
U.S. 1 from Sanford to Raleigh ain’t exactly a country road, but it could be worse. The speed limit is either 70 or 90, depending upon the driver (who reads signs?) and if you ain’t driving at least 70, it is because the driver behind you knocked you and your car into a ditch.
My knuckles were white as I tightly gripped the steering wheel and focused totally upon the road ahead, behind, and beside. These drivers are in a different world. Any wildlife venturing close to this road will become immediate road kill or disintegrated in an instant.
My next driving lesson started when we approached “The Beltline” or Interstate 440 at Raleigh. Certainly the full moon was shining somewhere, as possessed animals were driving every other automobile. Turn signals were nowhere to be seen, as they changed lanes on a whim! Somehow a six-wheel pickup truck — with its tailgate down — found room to sneeze in the 10- or 12-foot space between us and the car up front — again, with everyone going at least 70 miles per hour.
Seeing that our exit, Glenwood Avenue, was approaching a general feeling of ease and relief swept over me. The driving foolishness would soon be behind me.
WRONG!
As the traffic light on the exit ramp off of the Beltline turned green and we were the first car to make the left turn, one more car on Glenwood Avenue decided that they had enough time to beat us through the intersection. Ten more feet and it would not have been pretty.
That driver proved to be our Glenwood Avenue orientation. Every driver on that drag strip/demolition derby road was possessed by the Evil Driver Demon!
Finally, Creedmoor Road approached and what I thought to be relief quickly became a reverent prayer. I eased into the right lane for my right turn ahead onto Millbrook Road only to discover what every local driver knew and every visitor didn’t: there were orange and white barrels blocking the right lane ahead as work on a new Harris-Teeter Super Market commenced.
Turning on my left signal in vain attempt to merge we slowed to 20, then 15, then 5 miles per hour in vain hopes that someone would let us merge. Fat chance!
Remember, turn signals mean nothing in Raleigh!
Coming to a complete stop in the right lane just a few feet from a barrel, a small opening appeared behind us in the left lane and the little Prius — the fuel efficient automobile — proved that it could act like a 472 cubic inch V-8 engine was under the hood. Twenty-five ounces of gasoline SEVERAL TIMES OVER were consumed to make that abrupt move into the left lane and in front of another driving maniac.
By the grace of God we arrived at our destination — where it took several minutes to pry my fingers off of the steering wheel and wipe the frozen and frightened look off of my face.
Thankfully, I’m a quick learner: If you can’t beat them, join them. For a later shopping run and a trip to and from Duke University I drove like a complete maniac, or in other words, just like a seasoned city driver.
Now, we’re back home unscathed. Old John’s Road is quiet as always, and the air is fresh and clear. As Lizi surprised me upon stepping out of the Prius: “Ah-h, smell that! The air smells so good back home!”
Very true, and here I will not kill anyone, die of road rage generated stress, nor have to stay inside for safety.
That’s real country living Scotland County style, so let’s count our blessings!
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