The new and unfortunate normal

A major and historical in the worst kind of way thing happened in Atlanta this past week, when an entire block of I-85, well, broke.  A massive fire started underneath the bridge portion of I-85, and for whatever unfortunate reasons, the joints holding up a chunk of the interstate, basically fell off, leaving a sizable and impassable hole in the bridge, severing the stretch of highway that connects Montgomery, Alabama all the way to Richmond, Virginia, going northbound.

The fallout is fairly substantial, and the repercussions of having an impassable chasm are massive.  Anyone going northbound in, or through Atlanta will now have to reroute on either I-75 or just taking I-285 around the city.  GA-400 isn’t accessible going north anymore, because the hole is quite literally right before the exit to 400 North.

Sure, I’ve made plenty of jokes about how the hole basically reminds me of the bridge jump from Speed, or how the fires were basically when Tyrion Lannister used wildfire to blow shit up, and the internet has once again made a mockery of Atlanta and it’s apparent penchant for stupid shit like this.  Fortunately, nobody was hurt and there were no casualties aside from thousands of pissed off commuters, otherwise such might be in bad taste.  However, the reality of the situation is that this is going to be a massive and inconveniencing situation for all of Atlanta, and those who need to pass through Atlanta.

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Apparently the law is kind of a suggestion

I’ve heard of these bike/ATV swarms that have been seen around Atlanta, and I’m really thankful that I’ve never come across them before.  I’m pretty sure I’d lose my shit if I knew that I was missing several green light cycles at an intersection and be stuck waiting for a swarm of like 200 guys on dirt bikes and ATVs to passing like a bunch of unwanted locusts.

But yeah, these group(s) exist, and it seems like Sundays seem to be the days in which they tend to go joyriding throughout the city, occasionally clogging up roads and disregarding the fact that other people on the roads actually exist and might actually have things they need to go and places to get to in a timely manner.  As I said, I’m lucky to have avoided ever seeing them, much less get stuck in traffic on account of their illegal and selfish behavior, but with that being said, I’m pretty much destined to get stuck in traffic because of them sooner rather than later.

I came across this story about how the City of Atlanta is pondering whether or not they should crack down on them, which seems like a pretty obvious answer, but the fact is that the city doesn’t really know what course of action to take, be it impounding, arresting, destroying or all of the above, not to mention the cost of manpower and resources necessary to enact such a decision.

But the fascinating thing about the article is the accounts of those who are a part of the “club,” and how they (partially anonymously) try to justify their behavior, and how they try to spin in it a manner that what they’re doing is positive for the urban and black community, because when they’re riding, they’re not robbing or killing.

Wonderful justification.

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I AM THE 18 PERCENT

My car will probably never get stolen: report back from late 2016 reveals that 18 percent of U.S. drivers know how to drive a stick shift

One thing that I’m proud of, and am kind of a hipster about is the fact that I can and I do drive a manual transmission car.  I like knowing that I possess a skill that is rapidly becoming forgotten and that I can drive a stick well enough to where I can boast that I’ve never once had to replace a clutch ever, even after nearly 400,000 miles between my last three cars, all of which were stick shifts.  Not to mention it just feels cooler to be driving while utilizing pretty much your whole body, between wheel, shift, clutch and gas.

But the fact that the dying art of the stick shift is resulting in the gradual reduction of manufacturing of manual transmission cars to the point where only 5% of vehicles even come with an available stick shift is a truly sad one.  Sure, I know the technological differences between sticks and autos have not only diminished but in some cases been surpassed by some makers’ easy-mode cars, but I still like, and have little regrets of owning stick after stick, regardless of how hard it’s been to continue on with choosing to do so. 

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Quite possibly the most useless vehicle ever conceived

Mercedes-Benz getting into the pickup truck market serves about as much purpose as Victoria’s Secret getting into power tool production.

But before I can really dial up the snark about how yuppies would love this vehicle for hauling groceries back from Whole Foods or how it’s so luxurious, they wouldn’t let day laborers from The Home Depot parking lot ride in the bed, and other inevitable privileged American misnomers, it turns out that Mercedes-Benz doesn’t plan on selling it in America – yet.

I equate the deliberate denial as something of an attempted power move, for Mercedes-Benz to exclude the one country in the world that loves pickup trucks, especially ones that are kind of useless for actual utilitarian purposes.  Try to get Americans to be envious and drum up demand for a giant status symbol with wheels, but it has a truck bed, so it would be perfect to haul paint quarts, samples of crown moulding, and meticulously reconstituted wood.  Or a litany of yoga equipment from Lululemon.

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(Forced) Changing perspective

Lately, I’ve been feeling the financial crunch of a lot of expenses and debt that I’m accruing, on my own accord, and it’s admittedly got me feeling a little more anxious than I would typically prefer to feel on a regular basis.  Typically, I like to live my life a quarter mile at a time with fairly substantial cushions, so when I fret over money, it’s not necessarily always because I have no safety net, it’s because my safety net is growing uncomfortably small.  No safety net would probably have a way different tone; probably even discernable through my choice of words.

But as stated, this current round of fretting is really nobody’s doing but my own; I didn’t really have to schedule two, two-week vacations, two weeks apart from one another.  I don’t have to go to Disney, or Worlds.  There are a lot of things that I’m doing that aren’t really necessary to the survival of life, but things that I want to do, feel that I should do, and will try to have few regrets doing on account of how much they’re costing me.  Easier written than done.

I’ve been trying to tell myself that things are going to be fine, and in all likelihood, they will be.  It’s just a lot of my savings will be pretty depleted, and I’ll have a tremendous balance on my credit card when it’s all said and done.  I can’t speak for the future, but I’ll probably be back to, or remain anxious about such circumstances then, but I’m trying my best to keep my wits about me until we get to that point.

And when it rains, it tends to pour, but in an odd twist of irony, it’s through such downpour do I kind of find a little bit of perspective that, kind of helps, in spite of the poorly timed, certainly unwanted $600 expense.

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The most NOVA story ever

Short story shorter: woman in smarmy Mercedes-Benz somehow manages to not just crash, but wedge her car stuck onto the bumper of a smarmier $300,000 Ferrari

Watching the corresponding video to this tragic story, all I could think about was the issues that fictional Eagletonians dealt with in fictional Parks and Recreation; shit like not enough lobster at the soiree, or the mineral water content in the urinals being not up to par.

But this is pretty much the most Northern Virginia story ever to happen.  A WASP pretending like they’re rich and white privileged, somehow managing to not just hit, but basically run over and get stuck on top of an extremely overpriced and expensive status symbol with wheels; owned by another WASP.  Not to mention the Benz had a vanity plate reading “DER BNZ” because nothing is WASPier than needing to let everyone know that your car is definitely of a German manufacturer.

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Rare Pikachu: A smart NFL player

I love this story: RB Alfred Morris signs a 2-year/$3.5M contract with the Dallas Cowboys, but still drives and loves his 1991 Mazda 626 that he purchased for $2 dollars.

Now this is what it means to love a car.  I’d like to believe that if I came into millions of fuck you money, I’d still continue to drive my existing car until it became a good idea to perhaps purchase something else.  And even then, I can’t imagine that I’d go nuts and get an Aston Martin or some other pointless supercar.

But I’m all about Alfred Morris’s love for his ‘Bentley,’ and the obvious notion that he’s a pretty level-headed guy that might just be aware of how volatile a career as an NFL fringe player, and that it might be a good idea to be smart with his money.  I respect a guy who doesn’t go crazy when he comes into pro-athlete money, and even more so when he loves his old beater of a car and refuses to propagate stereotypes.  One thing the country doesn’t need more of is broke, dumb former athletes who burden taxpayers with bankruptcy and their lack of contributions to normal society.

Despite the fact that a Mazda dealership back from his days on the Redskins refurbished his car to near-new condition, it’s refreshing to read a story about an NFL player that still manages to appreciate and enjoy the little things, like his first ride.