The I-40/I-24 Split

I had to go out to that cool map place again, which is on Lebanon Road just past Fessler’s Lane.  I decided to take the interstate. 

Now, like most sane people, I try to avoid the interstate to get places around town, because it’s always a nightmare of lost out of town drivers and pissed off truckers, but I thought it’d be quicker.

And, I have to admit, I kind of love that trip, from here to Fessler’s Lane.

I’m trying to think how to describe it…

Okay, imagine three soap bubbles stacked in a pyramid, two on the bottom, one at the apex.  The bottom left bubble is formed by I-440, I-40, and I-65.  The bottom right bubble is I-65, I-40, I-24, and I-440.  The top bubble is I-40, I-24, and I-65.  So, basically, you have four interstates that make these crazy loops around town and there are no stable lanes, so you can’t say “I’m on I-40 headed east into town on my way to Knoxville, eventually, therefore, if I just get in this lane and stay here, no matter what the other traffic does, this lane will remain I-40.”  Oh no.  If you’re going to drive the interstates through town, you’re going to change lanes.

I, for instance, just to get from my office, which is right off I-40 to Fessler’s Lane, which is also right off I-40 maybe three miles from here, had to merge onto I-40, then immediately get into the middle lane to keep from being shot right down I-65.  Then I had to switch back into the right lane to prevent inadvertently shooting back up I-24 towards Clarksville.

The lanes come and go like a bad T-DOT dream, but what’s so cool about it, if you can just calm the screaming voice in your head that’s yelling about how you’re going to get crushed by that Roadway truck, there’s a moment, right after I-65 shoots off south and all the northbound traffic is trying to cross all the way from the right to the left to shoot up I-24 and all us eastbounders are trying to figure out if we’ve picked the right lane, where it’s like you’re dreaming right along with whatever engineer designed that nightmare.

It’s like the whole road goes quiet and no one brakes, but everyone slows down, and all the cars coming from the right slide across two lanes like it’s nothing, like I-40 and I-65 are ghosts passing through each other, hardly even suspicious of the existence of the other.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s a mess and whoever designed it should be regularly kicked, but sometimes, when I drive it, I’m dumbfounded by how beautiful it is.

Did I Tell You I Dropped the F Bomb on My Folks Last Weekend?

I’d forgotten about it, but the Butcher brought it up after they’d left; he was so shocked by it.

But here’s the deal.  My dad was complaining about how my Uncle B. told my Dad at my cousin’s wedding that he was so relieved that she was finally getting married because now she wasn’t "living in sin."*

And I turned to my dad, who was sitting right there on the big green couch and I said, "Yeah, he called me up when they got engaged and said the same thing to me.  And you know what I told him?"

And my dad starts getting all huffy about how ridiculous this whole thing is.

"I told him ‘If some thirty year old man wants to date your daughter but doesn’t want to fuck her, there’s something wrong with him.  You should be relieved that they’re fucking, not ashamed of it.’"

I didn’t think anything of it, because that is what I said to my uncle and it’s the truth.

But apparently I scandalized the Butcher.



*Just keep in mind that my cousin got married last October.  Yes, we’re still rehashing shit that happened six months ago.

Gentlemen, I Provide You a Public Service

Are you concerned that you’re old?  Would you like for there to be some test, some way you can judge whether it’s time to ask your wife or ladyfriend to just go ahead and start cutting your meat into tiny pieces you can mash with your gums?

Well, as you know, old men love me.  And this morning, as I was walking by one, he shouted out "Hey!  Come on.  Let’s go to Wendell’s.  Don’t you want some breakfast?  Haven’t you ever done one thing crazy in your life?"  And, in fact, I’ve done some crazy shit in my life, but I have never just gotten into a random old man’s car in order to go to some guy’s house I don’t know in order to have breakfast.

I just don’t think I’ll ever be up for that level of crazy shit.

However, gentlemen, it occurs to me that, since I have this power over old men, we can use it for your benefit.

Do you wonder if you’re old?  Watch me walk by at 6:20 in the morning, with my hair all fuzzy and my eyes still crusty with sleep, and if, at the sight of me looking so lovely, you feel compelled to strike up a conversation or ask me to breakfast or tell me about the hobos, you then know that you are indeed old.

We can try it right now, if you like.

Here’s me: B

Here’s Mrs. Wigglebottom: ~

We’re walking along the street:


How does that make you feel?