RIDIN’ WITH BUBBA
For more than two decades I have had the opportunity to commute some eighty miles (round trip) either into the city of Atlanta or around it, all the while with my pal Bubba always ready with a tart retort on any given subject. One must realize that Bubba, reared in Pine Ridge, was lucky to see as many as thirty cars in any given day (he did reside on Hwy 151 now Bobo Newsome Highway). On occasion, he even ventured to McBee but always via the back roads, that Charlotte traffic, you know. Once, he got to Bethune only to be abandoned but somehow made it home (he contends to this day that it was the Goat Man that brought him back).
For many of my relatives, a drive to Atlanta is much worse than a permanent case of the piles since they swear that the traffic will surely give them a heart attack. Further, most of my kin who have made the trek (the last I believe to have been in 1957) contend that the Georgia State bush is the orange colored barrels that adorn many, if not all, the roads. Additionally, they have claimed that the Georgia State flower is none other than the orange traffic cones prevalent throughout the state.
Here in Atlanta it is not uncommon to be traveling on multilane highways at speeds that would make the ‘jet set’ of Pine Ridge not only soil themselves, but believe they’re part of a NASCAR race. Yes, traffic here is different than Pine Ridge, for instance:
One may be easily passed while doing eighty miles per hour by a 1978 Yugo driven by an individual talking on a cell phone, adorning a lost tag sign(cardboard), and with a do nut spare on the ground. To which Bubba would reply, “Ain’t she fat”.
One may be cut off in six lanes of predawn traffic by a woman in an oversized SUV while putting on her makeup, listening to voicemail then texting answers, and eating a hot bowl of grits simultaneously. To which Bubba would remark, “I’ll bet she’s got a nice bass boat.”
One may experience the pedestrians while traversing through areas of downtown ranging from street beggars who will actually stop you and demand a hand out to the college students jogging along sidewalks or running paths. To which Bubba would reply, “Get a damn job” or “Want a ride?”
All too often traffic does grind to a halt for one reason or another and the description of the roads being a six lane parking lot surely fits. This always happens when Bubba needs to take a leak, a cigarette, or another beer. I’m often chastised for not foreseeing the predicament and stopping at the nearest watering hole.
All in all, living here does have advantages such as a scarcity of visiting kin and Bubba’s tutelage, but damn it, there just ain’t no good coon huntin’.
Have a great day!
I too have gone through “the ATL”. Usually on the way to the Florida Panhandle. The only other time I travel to Florida is to go to Disney World. Ol’ Walt’s rides are pretty good, but there aren’t many that can compare to rush hour on 285. Until he comes up with something called “bumper to bumper at eighty-five miles per hour” - I won’t be truly impressed.