Stray Crap Strut

That traffic circle by Mass General Hospital, you know the one I mean. It’s where Longfellow Bridge, Storrow Drive and Cambridge Street traffic meets and melds with commuters headed for Route 93, folks exiting Mass General and Mass Eye and Ear, as well as all the MBTA Riders going to and from the Charles Street Red Line stop. Yep, the traffic circle SO awful, they couldn’t even give it a name. Serious, I’ve googled it eight ways to Sunday and come up with nada.

It’s the only place in town I’ve ever been in a fender bender. Given my driving, that’s kind of amazing BUT this business was totally not even my fault. Astoundingly. Jerky Boy was in the right hand lane when he got the brill idea to take a left hand turn right in front of left hand lane dwelling me. Yup, he attempted to zip around me and ALMOST made it too. By the time I saw him attempting this dimwitted, death wish-esque feat, it was too late. I’d slammed on my brakes but, goddamn, I was driving an elderly Volvo Tank and there was only so much stoppage I could accomplish. I took a giant chunk out of his late model, bright, white, shiny and clean Sebring rear end. Oopsie!
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Off the rails a bit BUT did you know there’s a car named the Dodge Nitro???? ‘the fuck?

Who’s their target audience? Daredevils? Those poor, heart attack prone sods who’ve always got to carry nitro with them so, what the hell, let’s get a car whose name will always remind them to tote those mini meds? The deeply uninformed who just don’t know what that word means or implies?

And what qualifications must you have to get on the Car Naming Team at Dodge? Lowest IQ in your class — any class at any time in your life? World class sick, twisted sense of humor? Carnival con man looking for a laugh at the expense of the rubes?

Maybe this just hits me different since The Amazing Bob carries nitro ever since his heart attack-a-thon a couple of years back. Did I tell y’all about that one already? Mebbe. The coolest thing is this — we’re a matched set now. Him with his 6 inch long chest scar (from quadruple bypass) and me with the equally long railroad track down my back from when Moby was set free.

OK, this one's kinda cool

You know it’s doom for any relationship to get matching scars. Oh wait, I mean tats. That’s it. And

while we’re on topic, never get your beau of the moment’s name indelibly stamped on your hide. Ever. Duh.

Oh, back on topic though — the reason I brought up the MGH traffic circle from the seventh ring of Dante’s Inferno  (maybe it’s the fifth  — can’t decide) is this.

I was headed for a few appointments (including one with my fabulous Beach Boy Neurotologist, Dr. McKenna) this past Tuesday. Traffic was crawling, thankfully. No really. I was sliding slowly through a crosswalk when I narrowly avoided bumping a pedestrian. I saw him in time to slam on the brakes and immediately started signing ‘sorry!’ At times like this, I forget that not everyone, incredibly, signs.

The dude stopped, had a funny look of surprise on his face and then smiled. Then he signed back something to me (I missed most of it) but finished with ‘have a nice day.’

Hah, what a sunny bit of Kismet! The crap day, scary traffic deal turns into a surprise, happy connection.