So, today for my 37th birthday I got dusted by a crop duster.  I guess I can cross that off the bucket list.

In order to be at an event in Louisiana in a couple days that I’m not ‘apposed to talk about, I thought I’d finish off my summer of road trips by taking an especially long one to the Big Easy and back to Seattle over 2 weeks.  For this trip however I didn’t want to get the Benz serviced since it’s a 5000 mile round trip, so Rochto graciously let me take her VW Tiguan, using the Garmin 260w GPS I got her.

There are only two things you need to know about this GPS.  You can program it to say roughly anything you want, and you can make it speak in a female Australian accent. Or, I should say, an American’s version of an Australian accent spoken by a computer synthesized female-esque Stephen Hawking/Wargames type voice. Imagine a Seth Effrikin accent mashed with an English one.

Hilarity, with this, must ensue.

Seattle is of course a beautiful place to live.  And many places between Seattle and Dallas are beautiful, but my friends I am here to report that the stimulus package is working. Every view between Seattle and Dallas, on every highway interstate or state, is marred by that unique fluorescent crimson rectangle stating boldly: “ROAD WORK AHEAD”.

Traveling at 25mph on one lane of traffic, listening to my GPS intone “Continya stroight awn Intastate nointy fuh threy moils” and watching bizarre figures toil in bright orange hard hats and other garb, it wasn’t hard to imagine myself in some new Mad Max sequel.  Especially outside Memphis, Texas.  In one of the few stretches of non construction on TX State highway 287 a crop duster appeared just off to my left, dusting.  “Oh cool” I thought, until I noticed he was flying, at speed, perpendicular to the highway stretch. At an altitude of about 50 feet.

“ohshitohshitohshit” I said out loud as he appeared to head right for me.  He cut his duster right before the highway and flew directly over my car so low it shook with the air passing and was coated in whatever stuff they use on the crops.  I could almost hear the pilot say “between them and us, there isn’t enough runway”. “Croikey!” exclaimed my GPS.

And I, just like Mel Gibson, am older. But I haven’t yet been pulled over drunk, screaming racial or anti-Semitic epithets at the cops.  So I got that going for me, which is good.