Hit The Road, Jack (Part Two)
Rush hour traffic is no big thing on the Quebec Bridge, but sometimes I'd get my coffee and my wooden replica of a cell phone that I made and take a ride over about 7:30 a.m.. I had a rusted out '95 Mazda pickup and that blonde with her glasses perched on top of her head driving a '04 Acura next to me would not even THINK of cutting me off.
I'd get the morning news on the radio, have a coffee, talk into my wooden cell phone and smile at frustrated folks who unlike me, are not retired. It takes a sadistic frame of mind to get me into such situation and drawing so much pleasure from it.
On the 175 between Quebec City and Chicoutimi they don't get too many, but when they do, watch out. It is usually a semi and one or more passenger cars or someone tried to mow down a moose. Folks were out sitting on the guard rail having a smoke or yakking and a few wandered off into the roadside brush for a bladder-stress relief job. We broke out a soda and had some old nachos which we found under the seat. It was a pretty good jam too. by Jim Carten, the traveler.