I have little good to say about any level — local, state, or especially federal — of government.  Politicians are in it for what they can grab, the public they’re supposed to be serving be damned.

Personally, I think this is what the government should be limited to:

  • Defend the country (state, city)
  • Run the courts.
  • Help care for people who can’t take care of themselves . . . not who won’t take care of themselves.
  • Build the roads.
  • Raise enough — and just enough — revenue to do all those things.  Make everyone pay something.  (Flat tax?  Ok with me.)

Then get out of my face.  Get out of my business.  Get out of my bedroom.  Get out of my church.  And leave my fucking dogs alone, too.

2013-06-19 11.53.12

We will eat your faces, Hoover Boys.

That said, I have to tip my hat towards the crews that maintain US 23.  It’s a fine road.  It’s well maintained.  It’s got breakdown lanes for hundreds of miles . . . many of them wide enough to so that car sits fully on asphalt.

I know it’s not designed for bicyclists, but, you’d think it was.

Might Fine Road.

Mighty Fine Road.

There’s a “safety feature” built into the road, though, that’s driving me nuts.  (Again, it wasn’t built with bicyclists in mind, so, I’m going to go right now and pound some Lake Huron sand . . . well, pound it somewhere.)

It’s the median rumble strips.  (Though, technically, they should be called “divot strips” as they’re indentions in the road).   Designed if you go left of center, you’ll cross these strips, your car will rattle, and it’ll make some noise to get your attention.

Let's get ready to rumbulllllllllllllll . . . .

Let’s get ready to rumbulllllllllllllll . . . .

I’m obviously sticking to the shoulders / break-down lanes.  Drivers passing me are giving me a wide berth, with some doing the Full Monty.  (What I mean by that is not that they’re driving past me nekkid — well, maybe they are — but rather, they’re going all the way over into the other lane.  They’re driving British.  Completely on the other wide of the road.)

The “problem” (sand pounding in progress) is when they cross back over the median.  The sound is just like a jake-braking truck.

I know.  I know.  It’s the sound of people avoiding killing me.  Yes.  Thank you.  God bless ya.  I appreciate you letting me live.

But a few dozen of those sounds every single hour does tend to get on yer nerves.