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Mark A. Santomieri: Both hands on the wheel


Column by Mark A. Santomieri
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Hey, it’s just me again. Have you ever noticed how strange it is to drive down the 250? I mean, considering the fact that it is a state highway and all, it still seems to me to be way too busy. It seems to me like it’s become an alternate 64, where folks feel safer having their cell phones stapled to their right ears and can change lanes without signaling, indiscriminately.

I actually witnessed a woman combing her hair, talking on a cell phone and eating an Egg McMuffin all at the same time. I’ll tell you, I got a little scared. I went straight to the 64. It made sense to me at the time. I didn’t want the blonde with the McMuffin to try overtasking herself any further. That could have been dangerous.

So, I get off the 64 and head down the 340, toward my house. Still, I have to intersect with the 250 again. I sit there in my little truck and watch the myriad of cars and SUVs and so such go by. I keep asking myself, Where are you going and why?

I guess I got what you might call a wild hare; I simply decided to follow one of those vehicles, just out of abject curiosity. It turns out that the vehicle in question was going to Staunton, the place where all evil things supposedly dwell. It further turned out that that person was going to the Wal-Mart. Go figure, my inner grandchild said.

I thought vaguely about following her in and seeing what she shopped for, but I figured that that would be way too creepy. I’m an observer, not a stalker.

So I got back into my truck and drove it a few feet down the little hill and retired to the Baskin-Robbins. I had a banana split.

Staunton isn’t so bad, I thought. Maybe we can make peace. Anything’s possible with good ice cream.

Just thinking out loud …



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