Life's Little Curiousities

I see the weirdest things on the way to work. I suppose that when one drives 75 miles per day, one should expect to see some oddities along the way. Vehicles parked on their roofs, hooker boots, and the occasional large, unidentifiable object in the middle of the lane are all par for the course in the world of highway driving.

A few weeks ago, though, something particularly strange presented itself, something that got stuck in my imagination and made me want to make up a story. And it's been there ever since.

The sight started simply with a couple of highway cruisers pulled over, lights flashing, but without an accompanying offending driver. The officers had, in fact, left their vehicles and were trekking down the slight hill by the side of the road. As I whizzed past at 75 miles per hour, I glanced over and was surprised to see two tents perched there. Tents. Camping tents. With no vehicle in sight. Hm.

Well, that promoted a little pondering, but I figured the the handy policemen would shoo these folks on their way and that would be that. I didn't give it much thought until the next morning, when I again passed two highway cruisers in the same spot, lights flashing (again? still?), and the two officers down the hill. This time, though, they were talking to a couple of guys, one of whom was sitting in a wheelchair.

So here we are with the stranded wheelchair guy again. I don't get it; what is it about I-40 that encourages people in wheelchairs to get stuck upon it? Is it the Highway of Misfit Toys? All my wondering got me nowhere, though, and since I only had about 4 miles left to get to work I let it go, confident that I would forget all about it by the next morning and that would effectively solve the puzzle for me.

But no.

The next morning, there they were again. And that's where they've been every morning since. I've never seen them make any attempt to get a ride. The police don't seem interested any more. So there they sit, just camping out by the highway that never rests, the road that presents every opportunity for sleep interruption and a zenless existence. Interesting choice for a place to set their welcome mat, don't you think? And the only thing that's changed of late is that they've written a message in big, black letters across the door to one of the tents. I'm not sure yet what it says; I only discovered it today, so I'll have to slow down on my next pass-by and take a closer look. That's Wicked, sniffing out the big news so she can report it to you.

I am so doggone intrigued that I can hardly stand it. I'm just aching to pull over and conduct a little interview with those highway squatters. Maybe they're evangelists preaching the word to wayward truckers and highway patrolmen. Perhaps they've recently been released from prison and have decided to start their new lives on the edge of I-40. Maybe they have a death wish and are just waiting for the mowers to come; I don't know.

If you have any good ideas, send them my way. Together, we can figure this out.