Good morning, seekers of road knowledge. There’s not a lot of exciting stuff to report, other than some fog. No rain, no cold, no ice, no beasts, no fox in socks, no wind and no rocks.
But fog, yes. And it’s sort of unusual, in that it appeared yesterday (quite literally out of the blue), hung around all night, was STILL Brexiting (that’s a new word, for somebody who is EXPECTED to leave soon, but just keeps lingering… and lingering… and lingering…) this morning, yet brought us no rain. Roads are dry, other than a few small patches of “tree rain” (not actual rain, just areas where the condensation drips off of the trees). Now, this morning’s fog is much thinner and milder than last night’s… this morning, it’s never even as bad as moderate… it’s all light. And, by the time you descend to the Crestline Bridge, you’ll be out of it. Out of the FOG, I mean, not like, passed out cold… THAT would be weird.
Today is National Tweed day. If you know Shannon, give her props today.
It’s also National Walking day. This event has been celebrated by Ford owners for many years, only, on more of a daily basis.
Oh, come now… I am only joking! It’s all about picking a “team,” and sticking with it through thick and thin. You may recall that I have always been a fiercely loyal and steadfast Chevy guy… I BLEED Chevy, and will never change. Well, until I got my Dodge, and went with the new team. Besides, everybody knows that Ford owners are all about National Push It day.
I heard that investors are making an offer to buy the Santa Anita racetrack. The current top bidder is a guy named Elmer… this sounds like a sticky situation.
Hey, just a few words to promote fist bumping. When this started being a thing, just a few years ago, I was sort of averse to it, assuming that it was only for knuckleheads. It was way too “bro-ish” for me, and seemed like something that should only be done by urban types in big cities, or by drunk college-age-but-NOT-going-to-college dudes standing around near their 4x4s at the river after consuming a LOT of beer.
But… the fist bump has now grown on me, especially as a hygienic alternative to a handshake. Don’t get me wrong: handshakes are a time-honored tradition, with a time and a place. However, the fewer handshakes I do in a day, the better. Not EVERYBODY washes after restrooming, or cares about a hand wash after a mighty sneeze. Some folks rub doorknobs and handrails, and are fine eating a bag of Cheetos afterward, with those same hands, with no sterilization process in between… I am not.
But a fist bump saves me from pondering all of the things that the hands on the other person’s arm may have done since their last encounter with soap. I feel a lot better about knuckles… since it seems really unlikely that anybody touched any… uhhh, junk, broke through the toilet paper, or dissected a 10-days-dead squirrel just for practice… with their KNUCKLES. You almost NEVER see people at red lights picking their anything with their knuckles. But, even if you did, and your very own knuckles later touched those contaminated biohazardous knuckles, well, so what. YOU could probably still eat Cheetos, with your opposable thumbs and all, without consuming the other guy’s hideum.
So, I make a motion: let’s all switch to fist bumps! I know, presidential ambassadorial photo ops might not be the same, and farmers selling the ol’ tractor or Bessie or some extra bushels of corn might still insist on the handshake. But I suggest, let’s stop the spread of colds (and rhinitis!), flus (AND influenza!), ebola, ecoli, ricola, autism, whatever… consider me a knucklehead.