The Bandera Courier
Bandera Courier
Thursday December 14, 2017
The Courier is Celebrating the Christmas Holidays!
Go Back

Pass on by

Mikie Baker

Last November, a large buck flew through the air and landed on my 11-year-old vehicle - which resulted in the car being totaled. They say when God closes a door, He opens a window and I heartily agree.
My new ride - whom I've named Buck in honor of his predecessor - is doing a lovely job of escorting me around the hills. I wish I knew a man as nice.
Buck does double duty by serving as my office as well. To be successful at my day job, I have to visit a variety of towns that range from close to hundreds of miles away. When I head out in the morning, I may have to drive more than two hours to get to my first appointment.
People ask me all the time, "Don't you get sick of all that driving?"
I always answer, "If I had to drive this much in the Big City, I would have already committed suicide. My biggest concern driving through the hills isn't traffic. It's dodging deer. And sometimes they win."
Then I explain that racing all over the hills has certain benefits. I spy the first bluebonnet of spring, the first fall leaf and plenty of dead armadillos in the middle of those roads. Actually, dodging vultures is a favorite past time of mine.
Like me, many others out there enjoy driving to make a living. It's easy to spot another professional driver. We're the ones that set it on cruise about two miles over the speed limit, we use our blinkers and only get in the left lane for passing. The rest of you nuts out there are driving us crazy.
Take Very Best Friend for example. She's drives like what I refer to as "The Fifty-Fiver." She goes 55. It doesn't matter if it's on a freeway or in a neighborhood. She goes 55. That's where she lives. It makes her feel comfortable. VBF has no idea how many wrecks she's caused because she will only drive 55.
When I'm cruising at 70 mph and come upon The Fifty-Fiver, I throw on my brakes, lose my rhythm and start worrying about how quickly I can pass this idiot who's more stubborn than a donkey.
VBF is convinced that the Speed Limit is just a "suggestion" and anybody can drive anyway they please. If I drove like her, I'd only be able to go on one appointment a day. Country driving is all about the destination and not some meandering 55 drive.
She calls me a speed demon. Frankly, I'm proud of my moniker.
There are other types of crazy drivers out there. The old folks are a group that drives me nuts - though lately I've had more respect for them. I know someone will demand my car keys one day because they consider me too old to drive safely. I pity the poor soul who tries.
Then there are the Young Bucks who drive at least 10 miles over the speed limit everywhere they go. If I could just find an older single man with that much testosterone, I'd be a married woman today, I tell you.
Just like in life, some people race around and the rest take the slow road. All I ask is when you look in your rearview mirror and see me barreling up from behind, just move over and let old lead foot pass on by because there are always miles and miles left to go.