Soob

Been a bit busy and a bit sick (some plague or another is making it's rounds in these parts and I've not escaped it) a bit tired of the marathon that is the Presidential election. As such, a rare post or two on a personal matter.

Some weeks ago, while driving home as the sun set, I noticed that nearly every motorist that passed me heading in the opposite direction was flashing his headlights at me. Generally, while driving, it's not uncommon nor unusual to pass another motorist heading in the opposite direction flashing his headlights at you. In American vehicular parlance the headlight flash generally means one of three things:

A. Your high beams are burning out my retina's, kindly turn them down.

B. Just thought you'd like to know that right around this bend something exciting is happening (deer or moose in the road, a wayward cow, a horribly confused Ralph Nader supporter sitting in the road screaming obscenities into an old boot.)

C. A rare moment of American citizen solidarity, a devious wink and nod via headlights indicating that just ahead, Johnny Law is laying down radar so you'd better take some lead out of your boot.

After five miles of oncoming headlight flicks I expected something not just exciting but very exciting. A collapsed bridge or a UFO landing or Geraldo Rivera's mustache skipping rope and belting out Olivia Newton John while directing traffic.

But as I came to a stop behind a particularly large and shiny pick up truck (the sort that screams "I might not be able to locate Vermont on a U.S. map but I do drive a particularly large and shiny pickup truck,") I noticed, in the reflection of it's particularly large and shiny paint, the reflection of my headlights. They were winking on and off of their own accord in an irregular fashion. All was not right with my automobile's bright and shining eyes. See the above photojournal of the experience that followed.