Friday, October 23, 2009

Mother Truckers

As I sit at my desk, drinking a cup of Starbucks Breakfast Blend, I gaze out the window and become absorbed in the autumnal beauty that I see before me. The giant oaks are shedding their leaves (thank God, because I can finally use the computer in the stupid house again) and the muted colors of the season have taken over the land and sky . It really is a picture of peaceful country life. At least it WAS peaceful, until last week when suddenly out of nowhere gigantic semi's began grinding their way past our house, forty-two thousand times a day. Our quiet, rural road has turned into a super highway for tractor trailers, bearing loads of dirt to bring to the local private school, which is building a new sports field. One after the other these trucks take turns churning by our house, engines straining, belching out noxious fumes, drivers frantically downshifting to maintain their forward propulsion up the long uphill section of road ahead of them. After their loads are dropped off they return down the hill, allowing themselves to coast to a reckless crescendo, then they stomp on the brakes, creating a series of high pitched screeches and barely keep from losing control as they head back for another load. I don't mean to come off as such a complainer, but I really hate these trucks. I hate their deafening, over taxed engines as they go up my street and I hate the free wheeling roars as they go full throttle on their return trips. There is one particular dump truck that really ought to be put out of its misery and I would be happy to do it. Frankly, I don't know how the driver gets it to the top of the hill each time as the engine bucks and sputters, barely managing to continue forward motion up the long, slow grade. What is really sad, is that I'm starting to actually know which truck is which, that is how many times they go by each day. I have heard that this new sports field is a major project and the amount of material needed to complete it is massive. This means it could be a few weeks of intrusion into our quietude. I suppose there is nothing I can do about this situation, except accept it. Grudgingly. I guess I will try to focus on the serenity of my surroundings in between these diesel infused interruptions. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

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