FAR FROM NORMAL

FAR FROM NORMAL                                                                      

         I am far from normal. I admit that I'm nowhere near normal. (Neither is my family.) For a brief moment, though, I was so very close to normal. Normal was within my reach, but it slipped away.                                                                      

         When this happened, I was far from calm. Calm eluded me, too.I think this is because I finally found opportunity. There was no knocking. I certainly wasn't looking for it. Amidst an orange blur of traffic cones, a billboard that declared, "We do cows!", and a teasing "can't touch this" bumper sticker, opportunity beckoned. ( At the time, it was raining and I was grooving to the song, Hammer Time. I was musing about the trucker seated next to me travelling in the "hammer lane" and "dropping the hammer".)

         In Minnesota of all places, it certainly does exist. The locals know it as Opportunity Drive.          

         That's what I was doing with the friendly driver who let me call him Paul. I had the opportunity to drive along. Well, actually, I was a passenger, an observer of everything we passed. I especially noticed the names of towns. ( Normal is in the vicinity of Chicago, Illinois. I suppose this makes Chicagonians, or Chicago-ites almost normal.)                                                                                                    

         I espied the name HALFWAY, and, no, it wasn't situated between Chicago and Normal. I thought this was unfortunate because I could appreciate explaining to a 911 dispatcher that I was " halfway normal". Isn't "halfway" usually a descriptive like " almost there" or " just shy of"? Almost where? Just shy of normal?                                                                                                                                  

         Faultless was another location. This is quite the claim even for proud patriotic Americans. Homeowners in this area had showcase properties enhanced by patchwork quilts of red, yellow, and orange leaves. Many of them could honestly claim to " live across the pond" from each other. They created their own "waterfronts" with ornamental pools of water. This would have been the ideal spot for the LetGoBe.com billboard. Let Go Be.... Happy? Successful? Healthy? Free?                                                                                                                                  

         In the land of the free, a highway is known as a freeway. Drivers are free to drive vehicles in any condition. ( Detroit, the self-proclaimed car capital of America, has some of the most questionable vehicles on its roads. It's not unusual, in fact it's normal , to see cars gift-wrapped with layers of wrinkled, tattered, and lettered plastic fluttering in the wind. Who needs windows? Headlights dangle and bounce on the pavement. Molotov cocktails cruise along with their rag-stuffed gas flaps. Too many resemble the battered survivors of demolition derbies.) Free?                                                                                          

         American drivers , ( except truckers ), are free to use handheld devices. They freely exercise their rights to be distracted. Some of them are quite talented. In Indiana, the CB squawked with an incredulous trucker reporting that he'd seen a female driver with a bowl of soup in her left hand and a cell phone in her right hand. ( Yes, but what kind of soup? ) Another trucker was quick to point out that it was still a free country. One political listener claimed, " only a damned Democrat" would do this. ?? Yet another was free to comment, " Who the F cares?"                                                                                                                        

         Not me, I was laughing at the SCREAM UP A LUNG advertisement. I wondered who or what was at the Imagination Station. Could this have been an inspiration for Dr. Seuss? Did he ever notice and drive by Anna Minster? Would he have thought to write: Anna Minster, the scaredy-cat spinster, was too high-strung to scream up a lung?                                                                                          

         I was then distracted by this road sign, SHERIFF HOSPITAL. Sure, it was probably meant to indicate an exit to both a medical site and a law-enforcement office, but no one had printed the word "AND". Imagine the possible slogans for a combined location: Setting Fines And Bones, We Patch And Police, Cuffs And Contusions, We Specialize In Probing, Detection And Diagnosis, Snitches And Stitches,...                                                                                                                        

         Another absurd sign that caught my eye stated CAMPING HOSPITAL. Since many of my family's memorable accidents have occurred whilst camping, I believed this would be a wonderful idea! A one-stop service for injury-prone travellers. I suppose it could be similar to a M.A.S.H. unit with tents. ( Thankfully, this was not situated on Tripp Road. Due to my circumstances, it would be perfectly logical to create this facility in Normal.)                                                            

         Yet another road sign that struck me as odd was the yellow cautionary DEAD SLOW. Does anything dead actually move, slowly or otherwise? Is it such a great idea to use the word "dead"? Drivers are urged to be "dead serious". Roads are described as being "dead straight" or having "dead man's curves". After a traffic mishap, there may be quibbling as to who is "dead to rights".                              

         Even with all their billboards endorsing the right to bear arms and various advertisements for gun sales, Americans insist SPEED KILLS. Apparently, our neighbours are tolerant too. One giant poster screams, ALL LOONIES WELCOME. To be fair, they also display catchy phrases like Safety- You Will Regret If You Forget, or Get to the bottom of it. My favourite billboard poses this burning question: Is eloquence, like, totally lost or whatever? ( Maybe not with the following posting: A force for good. ENCOURAGEMENT. Pass it on. )                              

         There really is so much to see, experience, and pass on from the cab of a semi.Travelling via transport epitomizes the various meanings of moving. Yes, freight is hauled. Several States are traversed. I was never actually sitting still. I bounced. I jiggled. ( At one point, physics and gravity threw me against the driver, momentarily trapping his right hand against the shifter. I was attempting to return to my seat with our snack. Flying popcorn doesn't blind or leave visible bruises.) Sunrises are glorious. The chauffeur is a captive audience for stimulating conversation.                                                                                                              

         At the border, eager to re-enter Canada, my hubby, Paul, was asked by a guard, "How long you two been working together?" The assumption was that we were team drivers. Although my company in the big rig is a relatively new experience for us, the nice driver to my left was quick to reply, " She's been driving me crazy for thirty-four years." Like I said, we're far from normal.