Bruce A. Borders: road closed

Sunday, July 2, 2017

Take The Long Way Home

Had a chance this past week to see some parts of Oregon that I’d never seen before. I suppose that was nice but it wasn’t really a planned outing so it was a little aggravating too.

I’d gone to my son’s house to help him with a project and was returning home. I’d made it only about forty miles when all traffic was routed off the freeway. The sign said “Road Closed” with no explanation as to why. Heading back to the nearest truck stop, I went inside and learned the road was shut down due to fire. There was no estimated time of re-opening.

I waited for a half an hour to see if they would update the travel information and when they did not, I decided to use an alternate route. Sometimes a wildfire can keep a road closed for days and I wanted to get home. When I started my pickup, the people parked beside me—with Kansas plates on their car—perked up, asking if the road was open. I said no and told them I was going around. Immediately, they wanted to know how far it was to take the other road and if they could follow me.

I said I had no problem with them following me and when I told them it would add about 125 miles to get to the next town, a town that was only 65 miles down the freeway, they seemed excited. But when I clarified it would take about three hours due to switchbacks up and down the mountains, they didn’t seem so thrilled.

“Could be longer too, if you get behind someone going slow, there ain’t a lot a room to pass up there. It the vehicle in front is going ten miles an hour, everybody will go ten miles an hour.” I didn’t want them blaming me when their trip turned into four hours or more.

They eventually decided against taking the detour. “We’ll just wait for the main road to open. This is our first time in the mountains,” the guy explained. “I’m not comfortable driving on a mountain road with switchbacks. Especially one I’ve never been on before.”

I said okay and took off.

Thing is, I’d never been on the road either. Not all of it anyway—I had been on the switchbacks before. But then, even if I hadn’t it shouldn’t make a difference, one set of mountain switchbacks is about like any other. Of course, I grew up around mountains so it all seems normal to me. For the folks from Kansas, I guess I can see why they’d be leery.

After I got up there, I was glad they hadn’t followed. There were no guardrails in most places, it was getting dark about the time I reached the summit, and parts of the road were needing repair—the sides were crumbling. Not a good place for someone new to mountains and if they’d been behind me, I might have felt obligated to go slower so they could keep up. Then that would have made me a bit cranky. This little detour was already costing me a few hours.

Thinking all this, I was happily cruising along, when ahead, I see a semi. It took only a couple of minutes, if that, to catch him. And then, I followed the taillights of the truck—at ten miles an hour! Yep, ten miles and hour, just like I’d suggested earlier. And that was our top speed! For the next six miles! If I’d known my words were going to be prophetic, I’d have padded my estimate, by 45 miles an hour or so! That would have gotten me home a lot sooner.

As for the people from Kansas: Although I didn’t see them again, the freeway was opened shortly after I left on my alternate route, so I’m sure they beat me to the next town by several hours! Oh, well, I eventually made it home—and got to see some parts of Oregon that I’d never seen before! ~

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Monday, June 27, 2016

Give 'Em A Brake!

I’m sure I’m not alone in my dislike of construction zones. But since I drive over 700 miles a day, I probably despise it more than the average person. They slow me down, making my day longer. Especially, this year.

There are currently seven construction zones on my route, with the speed limit reduced to 50 mph. That may not sound like a lot and I’m continually told by construction types that they only slow me down for a few minutes and then I can be on my way. That is true. But the problem is I don’t just make one pass through. So for me, it becomes a little more protracted. I make two round trips through each of these zones. That means the seven construction zones have become 28. That’s how many times I have to slow down and I usually wait behind traffic about half of the time. It generally adds an hour, or more, to my day. You can see why construction is one of my many pet peeves.

It helps to keep a sense of humor—otherwise, I’d just be upset all the time. Thankfully, the level of intelligence of those in charge of said construction makes that fairly easy. For instance, one day this past week, I was chugging along down he road when I noticed the dreaded familiar orange signs in the distance—more construction! Yay! Like the seven I had already weren’t enough. Wondering what they had decided to “fix” now, I kept driving—like I really had a choice in the matter; this is the only road I can use in this particular area.

The first sign I passed was a lighted reader board that advised me the left lane was closed two miles ahead. Okay, that’s no big deal. There are two lanes on the freeway after all. I’m driving a slow truck and usually stay in the right lane anyway. But then, not more than a half-mile further, I see a sign that says right lane closed ahead.

So, of course, I’m driving along thinking that someone messed up. Obviously, one of the signs was wrong. But which one? Figuring I’d take a wait-and-see approach, I kicked off my cruise at the 50 mph sign and continued on, a little amused by it all.

And then, rounding the next corner, I’m greeted by this:

Really? I thought. Both lanes are now closed for construction? I guess that wouldn’t surprise me considering the convoluted methods they sometimes use. But almost immediately, I knew it couldn’t be. I was traveling on a busy freeway and if both lanes were indeed close ahead, I felt pretty confident I would have already been in the resulting traffic backup—and I wasn’t.

By this time, I can see the orange and white barrels ahead, lined up down the shoulders. Yep, BOTH shoulders. And then I saw the workers. Well, two of them. They were standing on the side of the road, engaged in what appeared to be quite an animated discussion, oblivious to the traffic whizzing by. Both were shouting (I assume, since I couldn’t really hear them inside the truck but their lips were moving rapidly and their red faces going through all sorts of contortions), both were shaking their heads forcefully, and they were wildly gesturing, pointing in what looked like all directions. I got the distinct impression there had been some miscommunication somewhere along the line. A miscommunication that had for the moment left both lanes OPEN! That worked for me! Except that meant I’d had to slow down to 50 mph for nothing. But that was okay. Just this once anyway. It had allowed me a better view and a little more time to enjoy the show as I passed.

The entertaining diversion didn’t last long though. By my next trip through, they had figured it out—at least I think they had. There still were no lanes shut down but the signs had been changed. They now read, “Shoulder Work Ahead.” But that may have had nothing to do with any construction. It might have simply been to allow the workers to finish their argument in relative safety. ~