Sunday, 27 August 2006

• Hard Hat Harry vs. Houston: Bag The Nematoad

  I'm a big fan of the psychological experiment.  I'm also a bit whacked in the head so it works out.
  
  I was driving from the Austin to the N today to recover all the treasures hidden here in the hometown.  One of my parting gifts the other day from work was my hardhat and safety goggles.  And hey, whatdoyaknow, they were both in my backseat.
  
  Translation: Driving from Austin to Nederland with a hardhat and safety goggles on. 
  
  I like looking super cool as much as the next guy, and nothing screams psychosomatic addict insanely cool as sporting construction guy garb whilst piloting a car through Houston. 
  
  Oh the thrills of that four hours!
  
  Everytime I got ready to pass someoneone, it was a double shot of excitement. First, I kicked their ass by passing them.  And secondly, they got to look over and see the world's safest driver.
  
  Maybe I helped some people today:
  
  -"See son. You hate wearing your seatbelt, but look at that guy.  He has a hardhat on to make sure he's safe."
  -"I'm sorry, dad. I'll be safer now."
  -"Okay, son.  I'll only beat you for 20 minutes now instead of the usual 30.  Then we can watch the next NASCAR event."
  -"Oh boy!"
  
  Let's face it.  Seatbelts and airbags aren't enough.  You need some good PPE (Personal Protective Equipment).  I don't want glass flying into my eyes and rocks banging me on the head when I roll my car down a mountain.  That's why a hardhat and goggles are critical.
  
  God forbid someone passed me today.  Sometimes I'd let them just for fun.  Atleast one man stared at me for 5 seconds.  I made sure to keep as stoic and serious as I could, to perpetuate the theory that I am insane. 
  
  I'd be hesitant to pass someone who was wearing a hardhat and goggles, because it's very likely that they are either mentally deranged or a total jackass - neither of which is safe.
  
  Tack on the fact that my car is now proudly adorned with both a "Starfleet Academy" sticker on the back window and a Polish Eagle on the bumper, letting the whole world know that I am an elite warrior bred for my skills in torture and murder. 
  
  Or that I am a nerd who is Polish and likes Star Trek and has no shame in expressing it via vehicular adhesions. 

  The simple things in life.  That's where the fun is buried.
  
  
  
  Later that day...
  
  -"Yay! NASCAR Driver Rusty Wallace."
  -"Son, I warned you.  We're a Dale Jr. family and it's my duty to Earnhardt Racing to beat you now with a belt until you're unconscious and coughing up blood."
  -"But Dad, look, I'm wearing a hardhat."
  -"I love you, Son."
  

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