On the highway home from the green mountains, clean air and wild trout we came upon a motherfucking Royal Canadian Mounted Police traffic section unit. They were pulling people over for goodness knows what. They may have even served a purpose this past long weekend as only one person was entered in the fatality column as the result of a bloody, screaming crash. We usually lose half a dozen lives on the Beer Celebration Day long weekend. The highways around here are less safe for Canadians and our visitors than the roads of Afghanistan.
A ghost car we were following pulled a U-turn ahead of us as a jack ass in a pick-up truck behind me pulled out to pass. Seeing the danger, I slowed to allow the pick-up by but he still forced the RCMP cruiser right off the highway. The traffic section cop could have thrown the fucking book at the guy - his poorly timed passing of me could have killed or injured five people and a dog. All the RCMP did was look threateningly over his shoulder as the pick-up flew by. An everyday driver would have at least fingered the guy and maybe thrown a beer bottle in his general direction.
Sonja asked me, "What the fuck are we paying the lazy bastards to do if not nail idiots like that to the road?"
I said, "What?"
"Do you ever listen to me Beer?"
She repeated her query and I said, "He probably pulled the U-turn to take a break and smoke a joint and then choke on some donuts with his buddy."
"The police do not all smoke dope like you used to Beer." Sonja is not nearly as cynical about the parasitic role the RCMP play in my mountie worshipping land.
"That's true. Maybe he was in a hurry to drink up some of the beer they confiscated from underage drinkers this weekend."
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