There's a certain type of car on the road that isn't really brand specific. I'll call it the 50/100 car, meaning that it'll only go 50 mph up a hill, but, in the right hands, it's capable of traveling in excess of 100 mph downhill. Said car generally has a soccer ball magnet stuck on it somewhere, and the driver usually talks on his or her cell phone for hundreds of miles at a time. Sometimes I think that Maryland is one big car lot full of these jalopies, and it certainly seems to be a breeding ground for the morons who drive them. Hey, Marylander, I'm your neighbor from West Virginia! You make fun of me all of the time, and if you can't take a joke, quit reading.

Stupidity runs rampant on the beltway, and there really isn't anything that can be done about it. Enough said. I would like to talk about a lonelier stretch of road that runs from Hancock, Md. to Morgantown, WV called I-68. "68" is about 112 miles long, and it consists of a dozen or so of the sharpest curves ever created, and there are somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen fairly intimidating hills and mountains. Most of these are long enough to stop any 4-cylinder car in its tracks, and that tends to make things a bit more interesting than what the typical sane person can stand.

Let's get started at the junction of I-68, I-70, and US Route 522. This marks the beginning of the westbound lanes of I-68. More often than not, I'll be tooling along at about 70-75 mph as I pass through the three miles of road that lead to the bottom of Sideling Hill, and 99 times out of 100 some jackass in a minivan or Toyota Prius will buzz by me doing at least 90. This is the same guy (gal) who stays in the fast lane doing somewhere between 40 and 55 mph going up the first mountain. I have a 6-cylinder with decent power that will hold the same speed from start to finish, so I blow past him like he's sitting still. Hell, half of the overloaded semis on the road scream past the twit on the way to the top.

Okay...that's the last of that dork. Wrong! Before reaching the bottom of the hill, a sonic boom rings in the air, and the same guy in the underpowered road hazard goes screaming past me again. All joking aside, I have literally passed and been passed by the same car 20 or more times from the beginning of the road to the end. I'm not prone to road rage, but seeing the same person over and over (and over and over...) again pretty much drives me crazy. AND it's a different scene every time. For example, coming down Town Hill, he may be picking his nose. As he breaks the land speed record heading down Dan's Mountain, he's looking at himself in the rearview mirror while brushing his teeth with his index finger. The list goes on and on: changing the station on the stereo; wolfing down a sub; pulling his shirt over his head and putting another one on; changing a diaper, etc. Where are the cops when you need them?

I'll tell you where they are. They're waiting for any of the rest of us to make a mistake. It seems like God takes special care of the halfwits piloting those 50/100 mobiles. In 27 years I've driving I don't think I've ever seen one of these lunatics get pulled over. Instead, it seems like the local version of Barney Fife is foaming at the mouth for you or me to get comfortable and rev 'er up to 76 mph. Never mind somebody going so fast that "Baby on Board" signs and soccer magnets go hurtling into space! Unfortunately, there's very little that can be done about the so-called 50/100 phenomenon. I guess I'll have to settle for writing a short article and putting it on the internet. The 2% of these people who can actually read may just get the message.

Learn more about this author, T.C Leonard.
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