Friday's total mileage for my longest single delivery run was 221 miles. I got to the pickup clinic on time at 9:30 in Murrieta, but was greeted with "Oh, sorry, the patient cancelled, but we do have another coming in for an 11:00 appointment." That points out one of the flaws in the system that we really can't control. The research lab where we drop off doesn't open till 9:00, and checking messages isn't one of the first things they do in the morning. So, if a hospital or clinic where we pick up gets a cancellation on an overnight voicemail, they don't get it until they open usually also at 9:00. They might immediately transfer that info to the lab, but the lab might not get the notification till they check messages, by which time I'm already at the clinic being told the patient had cancelled. I'll stay for that later pick up, but our dispatcher has to waive off the second rider suiting up to make that second pick up. Confusing...
All went well until I was five miles from home. I mentally profile other drivers at all times for potential issues. Rental cars will be unpredictable, because tourists will make sudden moves when they nearly miss a turn or a ramp to an attraction or a hotel. New cars with temporary tags will drive cautiously and stay in the dead-center of their lane, as the driver deals with whatever new tech in the car is bewildering them. Black Suburbans and Escalades, VIP airport cars, are basically like rental cars with harried drivers glued to Waze to find their pick-up and drop-off locations. And, sorry Nissan owners, anyone in a Sentra or an Altima is a complete wild card. Look up "Big Altima Energy". This time, I saw the grey Altima coming up the 5, running 20 mph faster than anyone else and changing lanes like an angry teenager, and I plotted his likely course as I needed to exit an HOV lane to make my exit. So, I was ready when he darted into the lane I was signaling and moving into. Finger on the horn already, I used the authoritative presence of the big yellow buffalo and the car horn to push him back. He gave me a very apologetic gesture, slowed and stayed about 100 feet behind me, not knowing what the heck I was or what had just happened. Shrugged it off... if I let every encounter get to me, I wouldn't be able to enjoy what I'm doing.
Sunday was errand day, and one of my chores was to run down to Laguna Beach to buy tickets for the Pageant of the Masters (look that up). If we can avoid ticket processing fees by buying at the box office, we will. Plus, it made for a nice ride down the coast to go buy them, and an opportunity to test out Version 2 of the self-covered Shad seat on Super Bird. Cruising Facebook in the morning, I thought Newport Beach PD's post was a bit snarky... "Revving your engines to get attention? We're listening too!" Ahh, so NBPD was planning targeted enforcement for loud vehicles along Pacific Coast Highway. This area is the most "Look at me!" section of OC. McLarens, Lambos, Ferraris, Harleys and Ducatis all peacocking up and down the coast seeking the jealous looks and admiration of other drivers. If you're not impressed, you're highly annoyed.
Cruising down PCH, I saw the portable electronic message boards saying that loud vehicles would not be tolerated. Super Bird's stock muffler certainly wasn't going to raise anyone's eyebrows. But, I did get that familiar shock when you first see those blue and red lights in your mirrors. Luckily the NBPD motor cop just wanted me to move over a bit so he could pull over the Harley up the road from me running straight pipes and hoping he'd impress everyone within a two-mile radius. Sorry, dude.
or is that the Canadian version…
