So I stole it

Just one of the many reasons why I loathe SUVs. They are TOO TALL!

Is that enough Os & Ts to emphasize my point there, toto?

I’m not in the Wizard of Oz, or any other fictional setting, I’m just driving down a normal street. People have been doing this a lot to me lately—swerving out of the way of stuff. I almost rear-ended some dude on Lakeshore getting out of the way of a black-plastic bag. I guess it LOOKED solid. Then a lady swerved around a ball. People will swerve around pretty much everything.

Maybe they know something I don’t. Or should I say “DIDN’T” until today.


Because when that SUV swerved into the next lane, and I calmly drove straight forward (really I had little choice, I follow pretty close, and since that’s pretty much the norm around here, openings into the other lane are just as disappointingly infrequent as holes in that cheap swiss cheese they’re always forlornly pimping at the deli counter). Anyway, I drove straight forward into a construction cone. A construction cone! What a misnomer!! I mean, we were in the general vicinity of a Pepsi truck. Unless they're literally building a soft-drink empire, I don't see how we can call this a construction cone.


So, while I can’t fathom how exactly that cone got into my lane (or why the Pepsi people were too lazy to pick it up…), I sure hit it.


And I had this vague idea that it would, like, rebound off my bumper ala a cattle-catcher and just tumble harmlessly into the gutter. NOPE. As any of you who’ve had the sadistic urge to maul a bright orange cone will know, they LODGE up in your WHEEL WELL.


See, the top of a cone is all soft and inviting. And the BOTTOM of a cone is a reinforced, stiff, ugly, cantankerous thing.


What’s great about having a cone in your wheel well is that suddenly you’re the center of attention. I mean, probably only 2 cars saw me run over that cone. But EVERYONE in a 6 block radius HEARD me do it.


That cone. That cone in the wheel well? Well, that wheel turns man. And just like a record makes noise, my axle played that cone for all it was worth. I even kept at it for a couple blocks (under the impression that I’m just dragging the thing under my car and driving over some pot-holes (see, I’m still looking for a bright-side to these things)) thinking that I could dislodge it.


A cone in your wheel well is like an emergency brake on steroids. It’s a great big Barry Bonds type emergency brake and it smells like one too. So, I pulled over into a Wendy’s. They have a tasty frosty I thought. Then I parked it and backed up. Still hopeful, see. Nope—NO CONE came out from under my car!? So I re-parked it and discovered the wheel well thing. Makes sense really.

Again, that bottom part of the cone is like a two inch thick piece of cartilage or something. I’ve independently discovered the same urge that makes people want to eat shark-fin soup. Anger.


Trying to bend that thing was like trying to launch a catapult with your bare hands. The last time I was tested on spatial perception might have been fifth grade, but the first time I used that particular skill was today. I bent, pulled, grunted, tugged, rotated, and spit on that thing until I finally figured out how to get it into an orientation that would just allow me to get the hell back on the road and get to work. I tell you, I am now going to swerve. From now on!


Some of you higher-minded types might have driven back there to return it to the Pepsi guys. Some of you lower-minded types might have been tempted to…and give ‘em something all right. Not me. I put it in the trunk.