Monday was a company gathering at a local Red Robin burger joint. The food was great, but I was looking at the prices on the menu and thought of the scene in Pulp Fiction between Mia and Vincent.
- Vincent: Did you just order a fifteen dollar burger?
- Mia: Sure did.
- Vincent: A burger? Bits of dead cow and bread?
- Mia: Uh-huh.
- Vincent: It costs fifteen dollars?
- Mia: Yep.
- Vincent: It doesn’t come with a shot of bourbon with it or anything?
- Waitor: Nope.
- Vincent: Just checking.
Once the food arives…
- Vincent: Goddamn! That’s a pretty fuckin’ good hamburger.
- Mia: Told ya.
- Vincent: I don’t know if it’s worth fifteen dollars, but it’s pretty fuckin’ good.
Typical office hob-nobbing then I hit the road for home. The proximity of the toll-road makes it the most convenient way to head home.
What I forgot about was the small span of road that goes over Lake Monroe. Woof! The moths, love bugs, and mosquitoes are gargantuan over that bit of SR 417. They also feed on lake animals, which means their guts smell like fish that have been left in the sun for about 2 hours. I get about 20 yards (18 meters for the other 95% of the world) down the causeway and have to hold a hand up to deflect the onslaught of death and vision obstruction. Before I even make it halfway across the lake, the stench hits me. I’m glad I have a strong stomach. Otherwise there would have been a fifteen dollar hamburger lining the inside of my helmet.
I must remember to avoid that stretch of 417 during the summer.
Bodhi Rana 