A Friday, and I'm a Yank sans Car.

It's strange... I didn't actually have a car whilst living in Britain. I really didn't need one. I had friends with cars, and the occasional "house moving" or "studio trip" from the house to my Uni. Studio were covered by asking them for a lift.

Beyond that, I didn't have to even think about using a car. Why? I could walk from my house to KIAD, I could then walk to the grocery store, and then walk home. Meandering down to the pub in the evening was simple, and much safer than getting into a Renault Clio and attempting to drive home after 10 pints of Guinness. It was very freeing, this status of non-driver.

However, I'm back in the US. The land of few sidewalks (pavement to my Brit friends) and enormous S.U.V.'s battering at you with their "jet-wash" of air passing the lone pedestrian at 60 mph in complete disregard of safety, or gas consumption but, I digress...

I kicked a car two days ago. I was walking in down-town Bloomington. (Okay, I'm being a bit silly) Anyhoo... The main-drag of 98th Street and Lyndale Ave. (It's the place where we have the free-standing Bloomington Clock Tower which is a piece of horrific architectural drivel, but again, I digress.) I was crossing the street, attempting to get from one huge spralling shopping centre to another, and I waited... And waited... And waited for the "walk light" to illuminate... It finally did... I began walking, and the old lady in her giant Caddy turning right (against the light) almost plowed into me... Well, I jumped back, and waited until the lady turned... Again, I attempt to cross the street... Only to narrowly miss being splattered by a big lorry. Finally... Third try is the charm, right? I attempt the crossing (that again is meant to be MY RIGHT OF WAY) and a boy-racer in his souped up piece of shite Beretta turns into me...

By that point I was angry enough to throw my personal safety out the window and stand my ground. He kept coming so I turned... Jumped and kicked the front of his car.

Brakes screeching... Finger gestures flying... And I then (standing on the fucker's bumper) jumped down and resumed crossing the street... (now against the light, as I had taken 3 minutes to attempt to cross the road).

Fuck.

I hate being a pedestrian in America. The arse-holes.

Okay.

Sorry about that.

First: A good lesson in Sarcasm from a Brit's standpoint. Yanks, take notice.

Secondly... A wonderful article where the editorial staff of my local "Star and Sickle" get a bit arsey with the Pres over his nomination of Harriet Miers. "Editorial: Harriet Miers' failure is president's too: The court and public deserve a more serious nomination."

And a last link that actually surprised me: Et tu SULU? Good for you mate! Good on you!

My friend Mick is thinking of doing this "Writing Thing" and I have to admit... I'm rather enthusiastic about it too... Think I should join in? Let me know, readers... Let me know. Do you think that Tuckmac should attempt his first novel? Well do you?

Slànte - T