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| Chicago |
It was shortly after watching the helmet less kid on a crotch rocket, that we entered the toll booth area. We watched silently as the motorcyclist passed us at warp speed to move into the far left lane. Once there, he hugged the concrete barriers, stood up on his pegs, straightened his shorts and seemed to test the air. This was followed by a series of lengthy jaw dropping, video worthy, death defying, yet astounding wheel stands. I thought to myself, such a carefree act could be seen as either foolhardy by those like us trying to preserve the life we have left or as totally enviable by younger witnesses. Whatever the reaction, he had a captive audience in the bumper to bumper traffic leaving Chicago. Now, in similar fashion, using skills obviously gleaned from watching his favorite NASCAR driver, Jeff Gordon, Bucky maneuvered our 50 feet of joined vehicles into the EZpass lane and toward the toll booth. We love the fact that having this small EZpass gizmo on our dash has eliminated the need for Bucky to jockey from lane to lane in race car fashion in an attempt to move quickly through the toll area. I don't miss the naughty words used when not successful. Now, we simply head for the lanes marked EZpass and move quickly to the other side. No more frantic last minute digging for cash to pay the toll. It goes right on the credit card, so painless! In true race driver fashion, following tight to the car in front, so as not to waste an increment of time, like #24 entering the pits, we approached the bar as it settled down into place having risen for the previous car. With precise timing, barely touching the brake, in anticipation of the bar lifting, Bucky advanced. The fluorescent bar held tight! On Bucky's command, I took the EZpass from its position on our dash, beside the Bobblehead Deer, and began to wave it frantically back and forth across the windshield.
"Why doesn't it work!"
Suddenly,
we had become Bucky's worst nightmare, a 33' motor home towing a car blocking the toll booth, not capable of moving forward or back. Opening the driver's door the small amount allowed by the closeness of one unmanned toll booth to another, Bucky pushed the red button marked HELP! What followed was straight from the Simpson's when Homer tries to place his order at the drive thru Burger King. From the stainless speaker next to the help button came a female voice.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, the machine didn't read my EZpass and the bar won't go up."
"OK, just
wah,wa wah,wa wah, and you should be fine."
Bucky, being ever so polite, "I'm sorry, I couldn't understand what you said. Could you please repeat that slowly."
"Yes, what you need to do is just
wah wa wah, wa WHAH."
Bucky to me, "Did you get any of that?"
"Ahhh, no."
Waiting, waiting, waiting and more waiting. Another push of the red button.
"Yes, what can I
wah wa whah wa? You need to
wah wa wah the
wah wa."
Bucky to me, "Did you get any of that?"
"Yes, I heard, "Can I
wah wa whah wa."
"Thanks"
Now, loudly and clearly enunciated by Bucky, "
IT WON'T READ MY EZpain in the ASS and I CAN'T BACK UP!"
No reply. One short horn blast is now quickly followed by others as exasperated drivers pile up behind us. And, I'm thinking, maybe just drive through the stupid bar. It doesn't look like it would damage the hood that much.
Suddenly a new voice form the silver vents on the booth wall, "Please read me the numbers on the back of the EZpass."
"What does she want me to do?"
"Read her the numbers off the back!"
"Where are my glasses?" @#$^@#*
"02600483911"
Magically, like finding the right letters and numbers to open a combination lock or hitting a password after trying all possibilities, the bar lifted and we were in, or rather out.
You gotta love life in the fast lane!
