Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

I was sure that "The Who" sticker would arouse some suspicion, but I made the 50-minute drive without incident. I did notice some things as I drove, though. I took notes. As I got on the entrance ramp to I-90, having elected not to stop at Starbuck's, there was a guy in a red Chevy Camaro ahead of me, quickly pulling away. How did I know it was a guy? Because the license plate read "BOBZ28." I merged from the ramp onto the highway as a Mercedes, "DOPLR" was on the plate, stretched the distance between us, which was being chased by an M5 BMW, black in color, with "SALTI" on the plate, which was familiar because a family with that name lived in a large house on Lake Road overlooking the oceanic expanse of water known as Lake Erie, the smallest of the five Great Lakes, blue on a cloudless day, grayish on cloudy days, and greenish gray on others. The house was sold when that particular Mr. Salti fled to Lebanon instead of facing the music here for food stamp fraud and was subsequently torn down, in its place, a huge brick mansion being built over the period of two years.

As I made my way through the suburban neighborhoods shielded from the interstate by high stone-looking, plastic-composite barriers, I was to the left of and slightly behind "DR14," my first thought being that she was a doctor, but then I recalled that Pete Rose, the not-so-Hall-of-Famer, ordered that the state of Ohio endorse his license plate with "PR14" for luck; so, maybe her initials were "D. R."

I was making good time and backed my speed down because the community through which I was traveling at that point is notorious for speed traps. Passing me a few moments later was a moustachioed man in a big Buick identified by the interesting "PHD GED." As I-71 traffic from the south merged in, a red Chevy Malibu bore the plate "69 CHIMP." Monkey breeder? "JUNE 34" was on her way into town. She looked all of 34 and then some, but "MARTY7" was older than she was.

Driving a Toyota on the berm, trying to get into traffic was a woman, "DINAMO 1." Now, if I thought that she was a Frank Zappa fan, I might have let her in; but she was a little too young. On the long bridge crossing the river, a white Lexus with the plate "XVX XVII," which was indecipherable to me, barreled by. I noticed "SUMMER 2" taking the ramp to Ontario Street, not driving a convertible.

Near Dead Man's Curve, a big GMC 1500 pick-up truck, "SHIFTN," was probably doing just that, slowing down for the 90 degree jaunt in the road. A Cadillac with "TGW SMW" on the plate was up ahead. I wonder about these license plates. Are those the initials of the husband and wife? Approaching from the rear, I saw two heads. Is TGW driving, with Mrs. TGW in the passenger seat, or is it the opposite, since the plate on the front of the car has TGW on the passenger side. Just wondering.

I passed up another guy who didn't know his Roman numerology. "X CDC X." And getting on to the highway was a huge Toyota Sequoia SUV, obviously a gift "2 CAROL T." Carol needs a lesson in turn signals and merging. Of course, driving against something that big, there are few vehicles that will not yield.

Approaching the first of the eastern suburbs along the lake shore, I was cut off by a Chevy Blazer headed for the exit ramp. In my less serene days a few months back, I would have followed "TODALEW," but there was no need to allow an innocent ... mistake ... to ... ruin ... my ... day. I passed a 7-series BMW (what is that, 735i or 753, I can't recall), silver in color, "JAZZ"-plated.

The gas gauge thingy dinged to let me know that I was running low. I pulled off the highway and into a gas station, where a huge, black Cadillac Escalade EXT, the kind that is not an SUV, but an SUT, was parked at one of the pumps. It was one of the new models that pumps gas itself because the engine was running and there wasn't any person in or around the damn thing and the hose was in the tank hole and the pump was pumping. The license plate read "DTAIL 4 U."