In one of the local housing developments, most of the roads are one-way streets. All of these streets are clearly marked as such, with “One-way” arrow signs, “No Left Turn,” etc. Furthermore, the roads are very narrow; they’re just wide enough to support one vehicle. Strips of gravel big enough (barely) to accomodate a motorcycle serve as the shoulders on these roads. As it is a housing development (as opposed to a highway or a big city), cross-streets are plentiful and traffic is light; if the street you need to be on is running the wrong way, it generally takes no more than a minute more of time to drive the extra distance to the next street (going the right way), drive to the correct cross-street, and go down the street you need to be on in the correct direction.
Tonight, I had a delivery in this development, on one of the one-way streets. Said street is directly off the main road, going in the wrong direction. No problem; I drive to the next street, head down, turn around at the next cross-street, get on the street going the right way, and deliver the pizza. No problems so far.
On the way back: I back out of the driveway, turn my headlights on (getting dark), and prepare to drive down the one-way street. Again, in the correct direction. I see the intersection to the main road … and headlights on the main road. Turning onto the street I’m on. Going the wrong way. Followed by a second car. Also going the wrong way. I swerve onto the ‘shoulder’ (or whatever approximation of a shoulder there is) and watch them pass.
Thus begins my rant.
Dear Sirs or Madams:
Are you out of your fucking minds? Did you not see the “ONE WAY” sign? Did you completely ignore the “NO LEFT TURN” sign? Did the fact that there were headlights coming at you on a narrow, one-lane road not convince you that maybe it would be a bad idea to turn in that direction? Did it occur to you that if my skills of observation were as pathetic as yours, we would have had a three-car, head on collision? Obviously your lives and your vehicles (not to mention your passengers’ lives, if you had any) are of such minimal importance to yourselves that you’d cheerfully gamble them away to save yourselves ** one fucking minute ** of time. But I can’t afford to lose my life, my car, or my job (which losing my car would entail).
In conclusion: I hope that your insurance agents (or a couple of police officers, if you don’t have an insurance agent – and if you’re of the mental caliber not to comprehend the concept of DO NOT TURN HERE, I doubt you have one) acquire a barbed stick and cram it repeatedly down your nether orifice. Furthermore, that after performing this action, they apply a thick cudgel to your vehicles’ windows, a sharp object to your tires, and a gallon of fresh urine to your upholstery.
Assholes.
Sincerely,
Farren B.
[sub]And for dealing with all this, I got three cents. But that’s for another rant.[/sub]