The L.I.E.

Nope ... This post isn't about someone being untruthful. It's not about some horrible, lingering secret ... It's about a highway ... Or to be more exact, an Expressway. The Long Island Expressway. For those who have never driven this 90 some-odd-mile stretch of paradise, it's just another highway. For those who have, it is a legendary strip of road ... Sometimes eight lanes ... sometimes six ... There is an HOV Lane for a section of it (HOV stands for High Occupancy Vehicle ... In regular American Speak ... The Carpool Lane) which dwindles and ceases to exist the further East you drive away from New York City. At the beginning of the L.I.E. headed back West from Riverhead, New York (New Yorkers say the L.I.E. ends at Riverhead. We East Enders say it begins there and goes to New York City), the speed limit is 50mph. At some point before exit 72 ... the first or second to last exit depending on your point of origin,... the speed limit climbs to 55 mph, and NEVER goes up from there. BUT ... You will be hard-pressed to find anyone driving at anywhere near that rate of speed. I generally take the middle lane and set my cruise control around 63-65 mph, affording those who wish to go faster the far left lane for passing me while leaving the far right lane open for those merging onto the expressway. When travelling at such a speed ... 63-65 mph ... in the middle lane ... it is advisable NOT to leave the the drivers side window rolled down. If you do so, not only will the contents of your vehicle be sucked out the window from the jet-wash of passing vehicles, but you will actually be able to hear the curses being flung at you by passing motorists. People fly past me at rates of speed in excess of 95 mph regularly. Police cruisers are visible in the median as well as along side the road here and there, but they must grow tired from stopping speeders at such a constant rate because about half the time I see them, they are sitting motionless while vehicles fly past at break-neck speed. It is amazing to experience such a driving extravaganza. I get to do it every work-day.

I know ... Those not in the know are reading this and thinking ... 'So what. So they drive fast. Big deal. Stop whining.'

If only they were only driving 95 miles an hour ... But along with ignoring the signs which state the speed limit is 55, they also ignore the signs forbidding cellphone use while driving. Most fun of all is when they ignore those pretty lines painted all over the place that mark the separation between lanes ... while travelling 95 miles an hour while steering with their knee ... while texting their BFF and sipping coffee from a to go cup large enough to completely block their view of the road. And when they swerve into your lane and cause you to yank the wheel hard enough to all but raise your car onto it's side, on two wheels, like a stunt driver from The Dukes Of Hazard ... If you should so much as beep your horn ever so briefly, they look at you like 'What the hell is your problem?'

So ... You know the saying ... When life gives you lemons .... yahda, yahda, yahda ... Soooo ... I'm thinking there has to be a way to turn all of this into something positive ... Something useful. Then it hit me:

Build a HUGE set of bleachers along either side of the L.I.E. and charge admission ... Sell beer and tee shirts and ball caps. Hell ... Sell tee shirts with beer logos on them and ball caps with beer holders and crazy straws built into them. Sell big, foam hands but instead of the classic "We're #1" with the index finger extended, make them say "What the f@#k is your problem!?" and have a different finger extended. Make the median into "The Infield" and charge extra to park RVs there. Paint big ass numbers on the cars and call it what it really is ... NASCAR for The Northeast. The money New York State would make would more than likely knock out any budget deficit the state has ... perhaps even enough to put a dent in the National Deficit ... Who knows.

Anyway ... That's it for now.
Thanx for spending a little time with me.
I appreciate it.
Billy