Share the Road

OK.  This is for all you bicycle riders out there.

We need to Share the Road!  Yeah, I know that a lot of you have got the bumper sticker that says just that but too many of you ignore it.   You take up half the road, run red lights, and don't stop when you should.   You  act like you own the road.   You seem to forget that we are calling for everyone to SHARE the road.   That means us too.

The laws of the state of Tennessee protect us, but they also tell us how to behave when we take our two-wheeled vehicles on the roads.   Like staying to the right side of the road.  And pulling over at the first safe place if 5 or more vehicles are backed up behind us.   Letting cars and trucks know our intentions by using hand signals.

One of the things I do a lot is tell stories.    One of my favorite stories happened almost 38 years ago.  I promise you I'm not embellishing this story--it's good enough to stand on its own.

I was home from college and my summer job had been interrupted by a union strike at the factory where I worked.   I had turned to farming and yard work.

On this particular day, I had been raking hay for Linda Gail Smith on her farm near Philadelphia, Tennessee.  Toward the end of the day, she wanted me to take the tractor into town for repairs.   Back then, Highway 11 through Loudon was a primary route south for much of Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan.

There was one fairly long stretch along Highway 11 where I didn't have room to move my slow-moving tractor off the road and allow cars to pass.   A long line of cars had formed behind me.

At the first opportunity, I pulled off to the side.

Let me paint the picture here.   It was 1974.  A football player who was a weight room regular, my preferred farm clothing was overalls, a sleeveless shirt, a battered cowboy hat, and (yes, admittedly) a cheek full of Red Man. And always several days growth of beard.

On this particular day, I was dirty, sweaty, and tired.  As soon as I pulled off, two "hippies" (long hair, beads, what later became known as John Lennon glasses) pulled over sharply in front of me, jumped out of their lead sled (if old enough, you will remember the type--oversized, big wings on the back), and came back to...oh, I don't know...maybe just to chat.

They weren't real big but they obviously thought that the two of them had the odds on me.

I had spent a lot of time on that tractor and knew it well.   I also knew without looking that just at my left hand was a tool box with a ball peen hammer n it.  Grabbing the hammer, I killed the engine on the tractor but just before it idled down, I popped the clutch. 

Just as that tractor lurched at those boys, I jumped off the tractor with the hammer in my hand.   It must have been their worst nightmare--a big ol' country boy, looking rough and, yes, a bit tough, telling them (in so many words) that they best get back in their vehicle and move on down the road.

Rather quickly, they hopped back in their car, spun their tires, and never looked back.  

My point?   We are on these roads together.   Just like I will insist on my right to ride my bicycles on roads, expecting (and hoping) that cars respect my rights, those of us on bicycles need to respect the rights of those traveling our roads in motorized vehicles.

To fail to do so is pretty dumb, wouldn't you say?

Being Southern

I had the good fortune to recently spend some time with my good friend Turner (better known as Tab) and his girlfriend Jane. Tab has lived all over, has literally travelled the world, and was more recently misplaced (in more ways than one) by Hurricane Katrina.  He ended up in western Georgia, where he found Jane.

Turner looks like Tom Brokaw but has the self-deprecating manner known well in the south.  He also happens to be one of the world's most widely known and respected physical therapists. 

But let me tell you about Jane.   This lovely lady is southern to the core.   She draws out her vowels like every true southerner and turns monosyllable words into something wonderful and melodious. 

During that same trip, my buddy Danny and I were in a restaurant where he was trying to explain "duck on a June Bug" to a Chicago realtor.  That might have taken all night if they hadn't come to tell us that our table was ready.

So all this got me to thinkin' about what it means to be Southern.  You have probably heard these somewhere before but I bet I'll get an "ain't that right" or two out of you on some of them.

True southerners know that the plural for "ya'll" is "all ya'll."  Where we like our tea sweet and don't take offense when somebody calls us darlin' or honey. Where people still say "please" and "thank you" and "yes ma'am" and "no sir" and where we always ask how your folks are doin'.

In the south, if a woman puts her hand on one hip and says "oh heck no," then you better go hide somewhere.  Where we might not have 'em much anymore but we know what front porches and clotheslines are. 

Living in the south means there's probably a pickup truck in your driveway.  Where some of us can hardly wait for a good snow so we can get out in our four-wheel drive vehicle and either try and get stuck or help somebody who just got stuck, although there are some of us who won't venture out on the road at all for fear of the dreaded "black ice."  That latter group will also buy everything in the grocery store at the mere threat of snow.

Southerners know that hushpuppies and catfish (always fried) naturally go together.  Where what folks elsewhere call soda or pop, we call coke.  Around here we love Richy Kreme but in the rest of the south, Krispy Kreme is one of the five basic food groups. 

Where we can taste the difference between home-grown and store-bought tomatoes.  We buy "sweet milk" and "light bread" (and if you don't know those, ask a Southerner) and know the units of measure known as "just a dab" and "a mess."

In the south we know where both grits and hominy come from and that you never fry red tomatoes but that green tomatoes were made for frying.

Where we might say you live "out in the country" or "on down the road a bit" and know what it means when the directions include "a right far piece."

Where we know that "fixin" can be a verb, noun, or adverb and that if somebody tells you that they're fixin to pitch a "hissie fit", you know to leave the room.

Southerners might speak slow and seem to "cogitate" on things too long but if you take our intelligence, our drive, or our ambition for granted, you're gonna end up on the bottom of the heap.

Bless your heart, Jane.  I'm glad to make your acquaintance.  Happy birthday, Turner.  You found a keeper!

Global Warming?

I'm currently in Chicago.  Got here Tuesday and going home Saturday.  Although winters in the Windy City are legendary--legendarily cold, that is--it really hasn't been that bad.  22 this morning but some snow expected in the next couple of days.

Usually this time of year it is twenty below and forty below with the wind chill factor blowing off Lake Michigan.   I brought enough cold weather gear to spend a month in an igloo but so far haven't needed much of it.  

Back home in Tennessee, we haven' had much winter weather at all and spring seems to be peeking around the corner. 

I was sitting with my granddaughter Kaitlyn last week after having just shared some of my world-famous Mickey Mouse pancakes when my wife made some comment about it being winter.

Kaitlyn, somewhat precocious and certainly smarter than her maternal grandfather, corrected her.  "No, Bebe, it's spring."

Being the responsible grandparents that we are, we used this as a teaching moment.  We talked about the seasons and the tilt of the earth away from the sun in the northern hemisphere and that this is what makes it colder this time of year. 

Despite her advanced intelligence (really), she didn't understand all that.  What she knew was that it was warm outside and the grass was still mostly green.  And the Camellia bush had blooms on it and no we really can't even think about jumping in the swimming pool.

But...if you think about it...she really may have a point.   I mean, it was in the 50's, overcast but still a quite nice day.  A day when short sleeve shirts were not completely out of the question.

It hadn't been really cold in a while and a snowflake wouldn't have a chance.  So maybe it is spring.   Out of the mouths of babes and all that.

But the calendar still said January.   So what's going on?

I know it's arguable and I really want to be wrong about this but I'm convinced that part of the culprit is global warming.  

Yes, I know about seasonal cycles and all that and maybe we had a similar period of warming 20,000 years ago but I've seen enough evidence to know that there may be some truth to it.

There are some things that we know.  Take the ozone layer:  It has never been narrower.  And the ozone layer protects the earth from the sun, essentially keeping it cooler.

We know that carbon emissions, mostly from the cars we drive, are at an all-time high.  And we know that carbon emissions deplete the ozone layer.  So increased carbon emissions = ozone depletion, wouldn't you think?

Glaciers that have been around for thousands of years have simply disappeared.   The polar ice caps are shrinking.  I think those things are beyond argument.

I will acknowledge that this is disputable but what if it isn't?   What if we are destined have a climate that is more akin to that expected in LA (lower Alabama)?  What if we don't have much winter in Tennessee anymore?  What could all this do to our agriculture infrastructure?

I, for one, would see it as a tragedy. And something that could change our lives dramatically.