Interstate 5 daydreams

It’s always boring, driving down highway five. Okay, it’s not a ‘highway’, it’s an Interstate. And yes, I know the difference.

There it sits, hundreds of miles of straight, flat road, in the middle of California. Nothing much to see but flat fields, an occasional oasis of service stations and fast food places. Oh, and the stockyards you smell before you see.

Regardless of the boredom, it is the fastest route to L.A. from the Bay Area.

But once you set the cruise control to 80mph (125kph), 70 when the price of gas was $4 a gallon, it’s a struggle to fill the hours.  Wonder-Girl reads a book, since the farmers don’t post signs on their crops.

I glance at the road sign, “Speed limit enforced by aircraft’ Enforced? I wonder how. The mind drifts and I can visualize a World War One biplane cruising through the skies, monitoring traffic.  It’s a two-seater and the pilot and gunner both have handlebar mustaches and goggles.

The gunner sees a sports car weaving through traffic at a high rate of speed.  He taps the pilot on the shoulder and gestures down. The pilot gives him a thumbs up and banks over into a dive.

As the plane levels out, the gunner swings his twin Browning .30 caliber machine guns over and aims just in front of the nose of the sports car.

With a crazed look in his eyes, he squeezes off a burst of tracer rounds. The sports car slams on its brakes and slides into the slow lane.

The pilot laughs, along with the gunner, as he pulls back on the stick and climbs.  Four crazed bloodshot eyes scanning the road for another victim

Sure, I have seen the real helicopter spotters overhead, but they are boring.

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I always wonder, what sick mind names the prisons around here?  Not far from the Grapevine you see the sign. ‘Happy Valley State Prison’ Oh, you know the prisoners just love it there, in the happy valley.

And in this flat area, there are no little valleys, so why did they name it that?

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You see, on the Interstate, there is no cross traffic. On the highway, you always see signs warning about cross traffic ahead. I always wonder how they know the traffic is angry?

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I am glad I don’t bruise easily. Last time we drove down 5, it was summer. Wonder-Girl asked what all the white stuff was, stuck in the shrubs. “Oh it’s cotton.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s caught’n all the bushes.”

Yeah, she hit me.