Glacial Tractors

Let me preface everything I am about to say with the admission that I do, in fact, have a rather substantial case of road rage. It's not that I'm impatient, I just have a very low tolerance for inconsiderate people, most of whom seem to have drivers licenses. I do try to remember during these stressful times that I am an example to two little girls, and should therefor not act upon this rage, despite knowing full well that both I and the other driver really need some action on whatever issue is at hand. I just ball the emotions up nicely and tuck them away inside somewhere, because otherwise I might live a long and healthy life, which would just subject me to that many more idiots before I get to rest. So, with that groundwork laid, on to today's (actually a couple of days ago's) story.

Two days ago I start the long trek to work, from Helena to Mt. Laurel (don't ask why I haven't moved closer. I don't know). I'm waiting to turn left onto Highway 11 via the shortcut which, if you don't know about, I'm not going to tell you about, when a tractor of some kind proceeds to run the light. My light. It just lumbered on through the intersection that we were waiting to turn into, without a care in the world. Now, to be clear, when I say "runs the light" here I'm using the term "run" entirely metaphorically. A more accurate description would be, perhaps, that it "inched the intersection", or maybe that it "crept the intersection at sub-glacial speed". I'm almost certain that the tractor was not actually moving at all, but had simply been put into neutral to allow the earth to turn beneath it. You may think I'm exaggerating here, but allow me to explain the actual order of events: The tractor entered the intersection just a few seconds after our light turned green. Two minutes later, when our light turned red again, the tractor was... still in the intersection. So there you have it. I'm not sure what that comes to in feet per second, but I'm guessing it's pretty darn slow. What I really don't understand is, if he was already so close to "stopped" that only the most advanced scientific equipment known to man could even register his motion, why not just stop when the light turned red? It's not like he was going to stand that thing on it's nose, trench up the concrete, and throw himself through the empty metal frame that used to hold a windshield. Was he worried about the approximately 15 feet of ground he would lose during the two minute wait at the light? Because if he was late for work, he really, really picked the wrong vehicle. So I didn't understand that part at all. Fortunately for me, despite having to sit through another light, I was granted even more time to contemplate happy-tractor-driver-guy because, of course, he was only about 20 yards beyond the intersection when the light turned green again. There was barely enough room to fit me and the two cars in front of me onto the road behind it without blocking the intersection! Luckily for me I was still in the tiny little Volkswagen something-or-other rental (the kind of car that comes as standard emergency escape equipment in a Cadillac Escalade, usually stored to the left of the spare tire). Things get a little hazy after that but I can say with certainty that 1) I was on Highway 11 for some undetermined amount of time, 2) the pain in my left eye went away by noon, and 3) my vision is pretty much back to normal now. All's well that ends well I suppose.

So that was Wednesday's driving adventure. I can't decide if I should tell you about Thursday's driving adventures next, in which I encounter a train doing it's "Tribute to Eternal Stasis" or if I should just skip on to some other topic. Maybe the incredibly insane bird that is in love with both our cars (an Eastern Towhee, apparently)? I'll just have to see how I feel.