Road Rage

This is my Road Rage game. I keep it on top of my computer monitor to be handy as an antidote to minor bouts of writer’s block. It’s good therapy for just about anything else, too. You just can’t help but smile when playing this game. Wal-Mart sells it for about ten dollars, but you can play it right in the store. I suggest you go try it out because, though I’m going to try, I can’t do its sound effects justice on this page. Unfortunately, my camera won’t record audio with video, so I’ve got to settle for posting a picture, and trying to put into words what aren’t really words at all. It’s better to experience it in person, anyway. You can’t have much more fun than tying on a three-beer buzz and playing Road Rage. I guarantee it’ll improve even the darkest of moods.

So, basically, the Road Rage guy rocks back and forth and makes high-revving engine noises, while pretending to drive his car as you run him through the gears. It starts with turning the ignition key. Road Rage Guy comes to life with a maniacal laugh and then idles, quivering in his ride. “Bummm-bum-bum-bum-bb-bumbumbum.” Shift into first gear, and Road Rage Guy is hurled back by rapid acceleration. “Rooooaaaaaaawwwwww!” He quickly reaches his rev limit and begins to sound like a trumpet player without a horn, lips spraying spittle. Second gear brings more seat-pinning Gs, and the engine gets louder. “Wwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!” In third gear, Road Rage Guy goes all out, testing the limits of his machine. “Waaaaaaaaaaa-na-ning-ning-ding-da-dang-dang-dang!” He even has reverse. You can almost smell the rubber burn as his tires squeal. “ARRRRRERRRRReeeee!”

Granted, Road Rage is not the most intellectually stimulating form of entertainment, but sometimes you’ve just got to dumb yourself down to get away from it all for a few minutes.

Nicotine Junky

I’ve just gotten over a cold I had for nearly two weeks. The worst of it passed in a few days, but I had this horrible, hacking cough and chest congestion that just wouldn’t go away. Cough medicine helped, but not much. And of course, smoking all the time wasn’t helping things, either. I knew I should cut down on the cigarettes for a while to let my lungs clear out, but not smoking all day is just as miserable as coughing all day. After ten days of this, however, I’d had it with the cough. So I did what any dedicated nicotine addict would do in my position--I found another source for my fix. Copenhagen, an old acquaintance that had helped me out before, had me breathing free and easy again in about three days. Hey, I’ve heard it said Copenhagen can cure anything that ails you, including the common cold.

I used Copenhagen to quit (albeit briefly) smoking a couple of years ago. My plan was simple. I figured I could use the chew to separate myself from the cigarettes without having to endure the nicotine withdrawal at the same time. It’s the same idea as the patches, but a whole lot cheaper. Stage two was to wean myself off the chew, which I anticipated no problem in doing, owing to the disgusting nature of the habit. Let me tell you, Chris LeDoux nailed it on the head when he sang about Copenhagen, “I put a little chew in my mouth, go spittin’ an’ a-slobberin’ around the house.” My plan worked great, up until the part where I started smoking again. I weaned myself off chewing over the course of about two weeks. The first three days with no nicotine were a little rough, but each one was better than the last. Then it stopped getting better, and I was left with a constant, if mild, nagging craving. And it would get worse at cocktail time. In addition to the increased cravings, I’d get lonely for my cigarettes then. Cocktail time is what broke me. On day twenty of no nicotine, I stopped on the way home from work and bought a big ol’ can of Top rolling tobacco. Ahhhh…I hadn’t felt so good in weeks as I did that evening.

I know I can’t smoke forever. I believe all the reasons why you’re not supposed to smoke. I know I’m going to have to quit for good one of these days, but I just don’t want to yet. Maybe in another year, when I turn old, I’ll do it. But for now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go burn one.

Soon-to-be dad (No, not me!)

My best friend of over 20 years told me recently that he’s going to be a dad. His wife is about seven months pregnant, and the baby is due December 23rd. I was nearly as overwhelmed as if I had found out I was going to be a dad myself. I think I was even more astounded to hear that they had planned the pregnancy. It’s not that they’re doing anything different than a lot of people our age do. I guess it just goes to show how different are the paths that our lives have followed, and the difference in our perspectives because of this.

It seems I can barely keep track of my own affairs; I don’t know how I could care for something as totally helpless as an infant. Hell, I still think I’m a kid myself. And then to think that if a child did survive under my care, I’d be a major force in shaping that child for life. Bad news for that kid. I’m a pretty good guy, but I’m no role model. The drinking and the smoking don’t set the best example for a young mind, and neither does my vocabulary at home. It‘d make the Collegian editors blush.

Adding to my role model deficiencies, I still don’t have my shit together. My friend stayed a little closer to society’s mainstream. He went to college right after high school, and after he graduated, he systematically took jobs that would lever him up to the next rung on the ladder. I, on the other hand, bummed around home for a couple years after high school before pointing myself west to play cowboy for another seven years. My friend has a good career going; I have a good part-time job--and two more years of school. He’s saving for retirement; I’m going into debt at quite an impressive rate. Funny how things turn out.

I haven’t seen my friend in a long time, but we’ve stayed close. I don’t think we’ll drift apart when he becomes a father, as I’ve heard can happen. In fact, I’m looking forward to some good stories out of the deal, and maybe I can be a source of some vicarious living. It does make things seem different, however. It seems like come December 23rd, we’ll be living in completely different worlds.

Darkness

I was reading the other evening until about seven o’clock. I love to read. I’ll read just about anything non-fiction. Anyway, I’d been at it a while, so the only light I had on in the house was the one I was using to read by. It was just kind of the dark side of twilight when I put the book down and switched off the light, and the darkness took me by surprise. I hadn’t noticed it getting dark outside. My first impulse was to switch the light back on, but I stopped short of doing so as an unexpectedly peaceful feeling came over me. This darkness wasn’t the pitch-black kind that has you feeling like a pinball as you try to navigate amidst your furniture. It was a friendly sort of darkness that seemed to invite me to stay a while. So I just sat for a couple of minutes, enjoying the peace, until the DJ on the radio intruded and ruined the moment. Later it occurred to me that darkness is very good for thinking. All the daylight distractions are removed, and it becomes very easy to focus your thoughts. Walking is like that, too, for some reason, even if you’re walking in the daylight. All this thought about thinking, however, brings me to a more profound conclusion: sometimes it’s best not to think at all.