Revelations along the long and winding road

It was deep into the black night, the end days of the old year.

I was driving the long road originally cut by American colonists in 1783, a route which took a considerably longer time by foot or horse in those early days of America.

It was a night to burn the past and, in those pre-dawn hours, to toast the future. And except for some unfortunate emergency, an hour that no good reason would exist for roaring up the old road. You would think.

The drive was harshly interrupted by a pair of beaming headlights making their appearance in the rearview mirror. Not the bright beams mind you, but bright enough to interrupt a peaceful journey filled with meditations of regrets and resolutions.

Tailgater.

An act that hovers near the top of my personal hate list, particularly when the one-lane road pretty much guarantees everyone gets to the same place at the same time. So while engaged in an entertaining driving game of speeding up and slowing down at precise intervals -
a guaranteed way to aggravate and retaliate against The Tailgater - it seemed to be a logical task to add to the beginning of the year's list of resolutions.

The problem with previous New Year's resolutions is they are always seeking something less: reduce calories, stop drinking, lose weight, quit smoking. This year, I want more.
More fun. More time. More money. More, more, more.

From filmmakers I want more creative plots. From the theater, more creative characters. I would like more variety in radio programming and a summer-filled musical celebration at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, where at least some of the bands haven't left their best work in the Richard Nixon era.
From broadcast television, I would just be satisfied with anything new at all.

As part of these wishes, I would also like to gain some clarity on some of the things I don't understand. I can't comprehend a president with poor grammar, particularly after receiving degrees from both Yale and Harvard.

I don't understand the chunk in the middle of the country with all those so-called red states.
I need someone to explain to me why abortion is murder, but state-sponsored killing is not.
I don't understand how it is possible to shrug your shoulders and say that it's all part of God's Master Plan.

I just don't get reality TV and I don't understand tailgating at midnight. But at least here, I have a solution.

I am having a mirror installed in my rear window, three-feet wide and one foot high that will be angled downward facing out the back of the car. Any startling beams of light seeking to invade the space will reflect right back to their owners and anyone driving within five feet of the trunk will see a mirrored reflection of themselves.

I am also going to have one of those little inscriptions engraved on the side of the glass that says something like: 'Warning. Objects in mirror may be dumber than they appear.'

It won't change the world, but it's a start.

by Thomas Dimopoulos
The Saratogian