On my weekday commute from my house to the train station I drive through the ports of Long Beach. That’s 25 minutes, two bridges, numerous 18 wheelers and always a couple of drivers who can’t follow (or maybe are just oblivious to) the undefined rules of the road. Yes, they suck at driving. You want to know why?
They drive slow in the fast lane and won’t move over. They wait for your cushion of space and then swerve in front of you without any signal – fortunately for me I can sense it, like a ninja. They are also completely disrespectful of the cargo trucks that use the area for work.
I don’t know if it’s from watching Smokey and The Bandit one too many times or what but I have a deep sense of respect for truckers. They must have to put up with a lot of shitty drivers all day long and they’re responsible for a lot of cargo. I know that when the trucker in the right hand lane is signaling to get over to the left, it’s not because he wants to drive in front of me slowly, like an asshole, it’s because he needs to make a fucking left at the next light.
Other drivers don’t see this. They think “No, I don’t want to drive behind this big, slow, dumb ol’ truck! I have to get to work” but what they don’t understand is that really the trucks are just passing through. Trying to speed up and go around them is the douchiest thing you can do, in my opinion. I really hate it when people do that.
So the other day I was driving through the port, over the bridges, to grandmothers house, and a motorcycle is driving among the traffic. I don’t know why but ever since I almost dated a motorcycle rider, I’ve been intrigued. My old college roommate has a boyfriend who rides. She once told me there is something hot about riding on the back with your amrs wrapped around a warm body. I suppose there is something about the speed and power in conjuction with the ever present danger of being in such a vulnerable position that gets to me. Needless to say, I was instantly attracted to the rider, who I’m pretty sure was a male.
I kept my eye on him as we cruised along the winding highway through the harbor. He was driving between lanes in my front left corner so it was easy to keep track of him. Then a truck signaled it’s need to change lanes. Cars started their “I’m going to pass you so I don’t get stuck behind you” routine. I began to get annoyed with them. This truck is going to have to slow down before he hits the next light to wait for a break in traffic, causing the entire section of the highway to slow down with it. Just then The Motorcyclist pulls a slightly dangerous manuver, he gets in front of the next car to pass the truck, holds traffic and motions for the trucker to make the lane change. The driver waved at The Motorcyclist, he got over and The Motorcyclist opened up the lane again.
That was it. I was done for. I now had a full blown crush on The Motorcyclist, male or female. Oh if he only knew.
