By Buster McNutt
I’ve never claimed to be the sharpest knife in the dishwasher. Back in junior high school we took this sort of intelligence test that some brainy guy named Stanford Bennett had come up with. My teacher told me that out of all the country I had scored higher than 95 people. I asked him if he hadn’t meant 95 percent, and he said, “No, not just 95 percent. I’m 100 percent certain you out-scored all 95 of those people.”
Maybe that’s why I don’t understand Uber, the “ride sharing” service — as I’m writing this I just noticed there is a (small) mouse hiding under the treadmill in my office (not much of a workout strategy there), so give me a minute…. Okay, I put the sticky strip “mouse motel” down and turned the treadmill on. We haven’t had a mouse in the house in about a year, and back then Lady M insisted I catch and release it in the woods beside the house. I’m thinking this is the same mouse. There is probably some kind of lesson there about no good deed going unpunished — oh, wait I caught the mouse! Now it has its back legs stuck on the sticky strip and is using the front legs to pull the strip across the floor. That is one strong little mouse. Apparently he’s been spending time as well under Lady M’s Chuck Norris Total Workout Gym.
That reminds me of an advertisement Audi did back in the ’70s to explain the advantages of front-wheel drive (“where you pull”) versus rear-wheel drive (“where you can only pull if you always drive backwards, and then the steering will be iffy at best”). I’m thinking it worked better for Audi than it did for this particular mouse. Give me another minute…. Okay, I’m back. Don’t ask and don’t say anything to Lady M. Practice with me: “What mouse?”
So, to “summon” an Uber ride you have to use their “Mobile App,” which seems illogical to me, because if I had access to a mobile “APPliance” I would be using it to drive to where I was going in the first place! Uber uses my cell phone’s GPS, otherwise known as the “we-know-where-you-are-and-now-that-our-x-ray/infrared/night-vision-mapping–satellite-is-overhead-we-know-exactly-what-you-are-doing-so-you-might-just-want-to- close-those-blinds-every-now-and-again” device to “fix” my location, which apparently stays broken most of the time.
As I understand it, when you click on the Uber mobile device web site (and here I thought only Spiderman had a mobile web device) you are asked where you need to go, what type vehicle would you like, what time is good for you, and other secondary questions such as bench or buckets, front or back, driver first language preference, any allergies to a particular after shave lotion, cologne, or scented air freshener, is eating sardines in the back seat allowed — it is fairly detailed, almost like the forms you have to fill out each time you go to the doctor, only with Uber you don’t end up with an ugly scab where they removed the “pre-cancerous growth” on your nose. Well at least not usually.
We don’t have Uber access in our area. I asked our Department of (mostly dirt) Roads about it and was told that first they need to get the Department of Transportation funds to “synchronize the traffic lights to maximize vehicle movement.” I’m thinking that shouldn’t require just a whole bunch of funds, since we only have one traffic light in the whole county. This Saturday is the annual Quilt Festival and Changing of the Traffic Light Bulbs Day, which is entertaining, but usually results in quite the traffic jam, with as many as a dozen cars, trucks, and farm implements backed up at a time, especially if veteran city worker “Mr. Bill” is changing the lights. He’s a wonderful guy, but he only has three fingers on one hand, a bad case of the shakes on the other hand, and is 100 percent completely color blind. He also stutters, and has been known to work through his entire lunch break asking “Are we using one or two red bulbs this year, Bobby?”
Even small rural areas have traffic issues. We went through a phase where the city fathers decided traffic was getting bad enough that we needed to implement some “traffic calming” strategies. Adding Valium to the gas sold in the area was briefly considered, the logic being that as the gas was burned the Valium-infused gasoline vapors would enter the passenger cabin and calm down the driver. And during the early tests it seemed to be working, but then vehicles started suddenly accelerating and running into things. It seems a not widely known side effect of breathing Valium is SRLLFS (Sudden Restless Leg Lead Foot Syndrome).
They considered speed bumps, but that was too expensive, so they just agreed to “re-purpose” some of the potholes that they had been storing for several years. In a county where 80 percent of the roads are dirt, a nicely shaped asphalt pothole can be quite the collectable. Every couple of years the county holds a pothole auction, and the locals bid for the right to have a particular pothole appropriately framed and mounted on their living room wall. One South Main Street pothole from 1998 is now valued at ten times its original price. In just a few years it will be eligible to become the first pothole on “Antique Road Show,” which only seems appropriate. You have to be careful though, as lately the market has been flooded with cheap Taiwanese knockoff potholes. The only accurate way to tell the fakes from the real potholes is to break off a piece and put it in boiling water. It’s from Taiwan if, after ten minutes, it turns into rice.
Hmmm. Several of my neighbors are standing out in the dirt road watching … a mouse using his front legs to drag a mouse motel sticky pad and a 40-pound cinder block down to the river. I’m thinking this might not end well for me. Say it again with me …“What mouse?” •
