Monday, May 12, 2008


So last week I was driving down probably the second busiest street in Layton after making a stop at the Home Depot for replacement sprinkler heads (of which I fixed and replaced myself, thank you very much. Yes, I'm one of those kind of sexy self-reliant girls). Anyway, on my way down the street I got stuck behind a Chevy Tracker doing at least ten miles under the speed limit. Under normal circumstances I would have just given it a little gas and passed them illegally on the right and cut them off to make my left at the light but I'd just been helped by a very sweet old man at HD and felt that maybe I should spread the love. So instead I rode along behind them rocking out to a Low Book Sales commercial and going less than 3o miles and hour down Main Street and holding out for that left hand turn lane. At the last second the aforementioned Tracker cut into the lane in front of me making me immediately regret my earlier kindness.
However, as soon as I stopped behind them at the light I changed my mind again. I love puzzles and this was one. When it comes to people and their cars I normally expect their decorations to portray something in their personality. You see a guy with an apple sticker and you expect someone artistic and maybe a little geeky. You see a man with huge smoke stack looking things on their truck and you expect to see an egotistical cowboy. You see the blond with the Mardi Gras beads and you expect to see breast implants. You see a bald man in a convertible and you expect . . well, you get the idea. Anyway, when I saw the tortoise of a Tracker, I didn't expect to see the Jeff Gordon Nascar license plate frame! But alas, that is exactly what was there. I began to ponder about the story behind this confused mini-SUV. Was it stolen? Borrowed by a less rednecked friend? Lost? Insecure about it's horsepower? Seriously, what was up with this? I was less than two miles from home but I debated on the possibilities the entire way there. I came up with many, many ideas (that I won't bore you with here) cuz my mind is just quick like that (unlike the Tracker).
When I got home I was still pondering the quiz and told my roommate the story. Apparently, the snail car isn't the only one being powered by confused drivers in Utah. She said that just the week before she'd been on I-15 and passed a sports car doing about 55 in a 65. But the best part of that one isn't that it was a sports car. It was the personalized license plate. I'm not sure if they were saying it because they thought they were fast or or because they knew they were slow but the sentiment works either way. The sporty plate said a very simple, "See Ya." Go figure.

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All of the true things that I am about to tell you are shameless lies.
- Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.