Tuesday, February 21, 2006

My Testimony: How I came to know the Truth

Warning: This isn't as funny as what I usually write. Some would say it is even out of character.

I grew up Catholic, which is to say my family was Catholic. I was surrounded by the religion, so there was no other option for me. I went to twelve years of Catholic school. It became meaningless as I grew older. My questions about faith went unanswered. Once, in my freshman religion class, the teacher told the class that the account of Adam & Eve in the Bible was an allegory, but not the real truth of creation (which, of course, was evolution). If the Bible was wrong about Adam & Eve, how could the rest be true? As I examined Catholicism more closely, I saw mysticism, but no substance. Our beliefs were not explained; they just simply were. But the real turning point came during the spring of 1989.

We were on a vacation when my mother started getting sick. We cut the trip short and returned home. She went through a myriad of tests, and the doctors finally came up with a diagnosis.

Cancer.

It was a tough fight. My mother held to her faith even as my doubts grew. I began to ask the age-old question. Why was God allowing my mother to suffer?

My odd choice of friends pushed me further away. One was a non-religious Jew, another a curious Satanist, the rest so intellectual as to dismiss all organized religion as mythology. (All this at a Catholic school.) With my mother suffering the effects of chemotherapy and a disease that was slowly destroying her, it was easy to follow their lead.

And so I slowly drifted away. When I joined the Navy after high school, I had to pick a religion to put on my dogtags. I shake my head today when I see my choice: NORELPREF or No Religious Preference. My mother's fight ended two years later. I had mixed feelings, devasted that my mother was gone at only 47 years old, but glad that her suffering was over. I had no idea where "she" was. The idea of Heaven seemed so quaint. Was she floating in nothingness, or reincarnated, or was she simply gone.

I had a terrible time after her death. My work suffered. I was sad, angry, and most of all, cynical toward religion. I actually began to ridicule my Christian coworkers, who gently rebuked my agnostic arguments.

My relationship with my father grew during this time. He would send me care packages with food and tapes of local radio personalities. They helped pass the time on those long ocean voyages.

In late 1994, I was overseas in Guam. I received a package from my father along with a couple of tapes. This time, however, one side of one tape had something different. Rather than bits from the Gary Burbank show, it was a half-hour sermon of a local preacher. My father was not evangelizing as such. He simply said in the letter that it was a preacher from a local church, and I might find it interesting. I thought, what the heck, and listened.

The sermon was by a man named Bob Russell. He was the pastor of a growing church in Louisville called Southeast Christian. Not Catholic, I thought, maybe it will be interesting. Agnostic though I was, religion has always piqued my curiosity.

Russell said things I had never heard before. Not taking the listener's faith for granted, he explained, as if to a child, what Christians believed. He talked about salvation as something we could never achieve by good deeds. He said that none of us were worthy to spend eternity with God. This was an interesting concept to someone who grew up with the idea that all non-Catholics went to Hell. Rather, salvation was already given to us as a free gift when Jesus, a sinless man, sacrificed himself for us.

Interesting, I thought. I had heard these things before, but never so succintly. My father continued to send me tapes of Bob Russell, and I continued to listen. In the summer of 1996, I drove home from Washington state to Louisville. I had twelve hours of Bob Russel to listen to and I listened to it all. He talked about how Jesus was a real historical figure who fufilled every prophecy of the Old Testament. He talked about how this man lived a perfect life, free of sin. He worked miracles in front of thousands of witnesses. He suffered hours of torture and then a slow, horrible death. He talked about the fact that his followers, rather than cower and hide from those who killed Jesus, began to loudly proclaim (in foreign languages, no less), that Jesus had come back to life. Why would they risk saying such a thing?

Why indeed.

The fact was that hundreds of people witnessed his death, and later saw him alive. The Jews and Romans persecuted these early Christians savagely. And yet they kept preaching. Why risk their own death, unless...

Unless they weren't lying.

But if it was the truth, then it meant that Jesus had done what he said he would do. He had sacrificed himself for us and opened the gates of Heaven. He came back to life. It must be true, I reasoned. And if that was the truth, then it must all be true, all the way back to Adam and Eve. Jesus was the Messiah promised in the Bible by Hebrew prophets hundreds of years before. We were a bunch of sinners who would always sin and fall short of the example He set for us. But because of his love and sacrifice, we could be saved simply by believing He is the Messiah.

It actually made sense rationally, but more than that, I experienced a change. It was as if a light went on; a switch flipped in my mind. Something deeper was working inside me. It was a warm, comforting sensation; a sense that I was being welcomed home after a long trip. He was speaking to my heart. The love of God wrapped around me like a warm blanket. My fears and doubts began to melt away. Jesus was alive and always had been. I had been a fool to doubt Him. I began to see life differently. I realized that God does not let bad things happen, like my mother's death. Rather, the sin of man has created a world of death and disease that we must struggle through to find the Father. Death is a small concern as long as you have faith in Christ, because it means when you die, you go to the Father. So my mother had eternal life! I knew this, because she never doubted her faith through all her hardships.

Rather than simply being sinners in the hands of an angry God, we are God's beloved children. God does not want us to fear Him; He wants us to love Him. He wants us to find Him and come home.

I look back on my life and look at how He was there for me when I needed Him. He helped me stay on the right path even as I was denying Him. He knew I would come back home. He was the unknown force in my life through my lost years in Navy keeping me out of the wrong places.

I do not fear anything now. I do not cry at funerals. Rather, I rejoice in the knowledge that someone else has gone home. I see trouble in this world. We as a people are rejecting God. Christians and their beliefs are being criticized. We are being persecuted. But it's okay, because He said this would happen, and he hasn't lied to us yet.

I write this now because one year ago (February 19th, exactly) I was baptized at Southeast Christian Church while my father and Bob Russell looked on. I'm so glad to be home.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

I have been asked quite a few questions about my career operating a nuclear reactor on a submarine.

Q - You were on a sub? That must have been kind of weird.

A - Saying that my experience was kind of weird is similar to saying that Adolph Hitler was kind of mean.

Q - Why did you volunteer to go on a sub?

A - Greed. Sub sailors get paid more. We also got barracks rooms, since living on the ship (like most sailors have to do) is impossible.

Q - What do you think of the Russian sub Kursk that sank?

A - I prayed that they died quickly. My worst fear was sinking to the bottom and being stuck there. It would be far better to sink deep, implode, and not suffer.

Q - How fast can they go?

A - Greater than 25 knots or about 28 miles per hour. Honestly, my ship was so old, it would have rattled itself apart at that speed. We usually went a lot slower to avoid detection.

Q - How deep can they go?

A - Greater than 800 feet. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I do know the real limit, but I'll never tell.

Q - How far away can they detect another sub?

A - It depends. On what you ask? Can't say.

Q - How fast can the torpedoes go?

A - Much faster than submarines can. How much faster? I'll never tell.

Q - What kind of sub were you on?

A - I was stationed on the USS Puffer (SSN 652). It was a Sturgeon Class Fast Attack sub. These are also referred to as "hunter-killer" subs. Their mission is to seek and destroy enemy ships and submarines.

Q - Do you know where I can get some schematics of a sub?

A - No. And if I did I couldn't tell you anyway.

Q - Do you have any schematics of a sub?

A - Only in my head.

Q - Did you ever chase any Russian subs?

A - The Cold War ended in 1991. So did the first Gulf War. I reported to Puffer in 1992. Do the math. My stint from '92 to '96 will go down in history as the four most uneventful years in Naval history.

Q - So what did you do on your "missions"?

A - Practice. Train. Run simulated casualty drills (fires, floods, reactor emergencies). We would play war games other ships in the fleet. They would try and detect us. We would hunt them.

Q - Did you get claustrophobic?

A - No. We usually found it best not to think about the 800 feet of seawater between us and the surface.

Q - What did you do for fun?

A - It does get pretty boring on long deployments, especially after one's qualification process is done. We had a TV and VCR in the crew's mess with a large selection of recent movies. We would usually watch one every night on the evening watch. It was a tradition to also watch the first half-hour of "Full Metal Jacket". We also had a library of donated books. I usually brought my own. On a six month deployment I read thirty novels. We also had a selection of exercise equipment, including free weights (greatly discouraged on subs because of the potential for noise transients), an exercise bike and a treadmill. We wore out the motor on the treadmill at least three times from overuse. We also had a few computer games to play if you could find a free PC. We also played a lot of cards, mostly Spades, cribbage and (unauthorized) poker.

Q - Did you have to learn how to SCUBA dive?

A - I did not have to learn, but I did get qualified as an open water diver in Guam through a civilian organization (PADI). A few members of my crew were qualified as Navy divers and had to go through a much more rigorous school.

Q - What were the living conditions like?

A - Very cramped. We often had to share beds, i.e.. three guys to two bunks so that one guy is always on watch. The beds were walled into compartments on three sides and stacked three high. The only entrance was via a sliding curtain. It is comparable to sleeping in a coffin. It could be worse. Some people even had to sleep out in the open in the torpedo room.

Q - How much time did you spend underwater?

A - We would submerge as soon as we were in deep enough water to do so. We would spend 95 percent of a deployment underwater, but we would ventilate to bring on fresh air once a week. I have personally spent a month underwater without surfacing.

Q - How could you stand to be away for so long?

A - It was not that bad. Fast-attack subs typically only stay out at sea for one or two weeks at a time before returning to their homeport. In my four years of sea duty, I only participated in two long deployments, one for three months and the other for six months. Of those, we usually spent only a week or two between ports.

Q - How long could you stay underwater?

A - Since nuclear subs do not require oxygen for power generation, and can make all their own oxygen and water, they can stay under water indefinitely. The only limitation is the endurance of the crew.

Q - Did you get a lot of radiation?

A - I got less radiation in six years than some people get in one day on some beaches. There were instances when I got more radiation than normal if I had to do work in the actual reactor compartment. It was always closely monitored then. By the way, the reactor was shut down during those times. Otherwise the heat and radiation would have killed me very quickly.

Q - Could you see out the windows?

A - Military submarines do not have windows. It was not "Voyage to the Bottom to the Sea". If we had windows, we would not have been able to see anything, anyway. It is simply too dark at those depths. Research submarines, like NR-1, do have windows and lights and go much deeper than mine.

Q - Did you have to go through any psychological testing before you could be assigned to your job?

A - I talked to a psychologist once for about five minutes in boot camp. I don't think that one can gauge well-being in this short amount of time. The training itself is the true test. If one can withstand the incredible pressure to perform in a controlled, academic environment, it's a good possibility they can handle the rigors of submarine life.

Q - So did anyone ever crack under the pressure in school?

A - All the time. The program is not for everyone. There were often attempted suicides, though thankfully none successful. One of these was actually in my class. He had previously jumped in a lake with all his clothes on just to see if his boots would stick to the mud.

Q - Did anyone ever go crazy from the stress on the sub?

A - Yes. Usually the cooks.

Q - The cooks?

A - Absolutely. We attributed it to the fact that the crew was often quite stressed. The cooks would often be the undeserving targets of our anger and frustration. And they were already being held to the same high standards as the rest of the crew.

Q - I saw a movie where a sub popped up through the water. Have you ever done one of those??

A - That is called an emergency surface or emergency blow. We had to do one once a year to test the system. It is a wild ride. To see one, click here.

Q - What did you think of that sub that hit the Japanese fishing trawler?

A - It was a tragedy, obviously. Sub commanders do everything in their power to prevent something like that, but they cannot be everywhere at once. The captain of the Greenville was ultimately responsible because it was his boat.

Q - Did you have to go to a lot of school?

A - Yes. I spent close to two years in training before I reported to my boat. The first school covered electronics, my specialty. The second taught nuclear reactor theory. The final school was actually an operating nuclear reactor in the Idaho desert. There I learned how to actually run a reactor.

Q - They have a reactor in Idaho?

A - They used to have two. They have since been decommsioned. All nuclear trained sailors now train on decommisioned subs.

Q - Was it difficult?

A - Yes. For academics, the Naval Nuclear Power program is the toughest school in the military. Only about half of those who start the program finish it.

Q - Where were you stationed?

A - My first station was a training base in Orlando, Florida, where I attended boot camp and my formal nuclear training. Then it was on to Idaho as mentioned above. My first (and only) sub operated out of San Diego, California, until it was decommisioned. We then moved it to Bremerton, Washington. My enlistment ended while they were in the middle of de-fueling the reactor.

Q - Did you get to visit any foreign ports?

A - I went on two deployments. On the first we went up the Bering Strait and under the ice cap. We surfaced through the ice in the Arctic Circle about twenty times. We came down east of Greenland and visited Scotland. We then went through the Panama Canal and came home.
On the second, we went to Hawaii, Japan(Yokosuka and Sacebo), Guam, Hong Kong and Fiji.

Q - How long was your enlistment?

A - Six years. Two years in training, four years of sea duty. All technical ratings typically have a six year contract. There is also another two years of inactive service afterward, but one doesn't really have any responsibilities during this time. I actually extended my enlistment another four years in the Naval Reserves here in Louisville.

Q - Did you get any college credit?

A - Sadly, no. The material we learned contained classified information about the operating parameters of navy nuclear power plants. The curriculum could not be reviewed, therefore no one will transfer the credits. The only college credit I got was through a correspondence course in American History that I took during a deployment. Technically, my education was the equivalent an Associates of Arts in both Electrical Engineering Technology and Nuclear Engineering Technology.

Q - Did your ship have nuclear weapons?

A - Fast attack subs have the ability to carry nuclear weapons. I cannot say whether they actually do. Ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs) always carry nuclear weapons while on patrol.

Q - What kind of fuel did the reactor use?

A - It used highly enriched uranium.

Q - Could you see it glowing green?

A - No. The fuel was heavily shielded with lead and water (yes, plain water) inside the reactor vessel. Incidentally, uranium undergoing fission glows blue.

Q - How does a reactor work?

A - Ours was a pressurized water reactor. Basically this means that they used highly pressurized water as coolant and moderator (what controls the fission reaction). When uranium fissions, some of the resulting particles are highly energetic neutrons. The moderator, water, reflects some of these neutrons back toward other uranium atoms, which then undergo fission. The resulting chain reaction can be controlled by the temperature of the water and the amount of uranium that is exposed to it. Without going into too much detail, this reaction heats up the surrounding water. This superheated water goes through a heat-exchanger and heats up water in secondary system under less pressure. This secondary water flashes to steam which is used to turn the electrical turbines and the ship's propeller.

Q - Did you ever have a meltdown?

A - No Naval reactor has ever had an incident even close to that magnitude. The reactors are over-engineered for safety to the point of annoyance. Naval reactors, by design, will shutdown and/or cease to function at too high a power or temperature. We trained on what happened at Three Mile Island and Chernobyl. In both cases, the problem resulted from inattentive operators. While our reactors are inherently stable with plenty of safety protocols, the most important safety mechanisms are the operators themselves. I was astonished at the level of ingenuity that went into the reactor design. It was one of the factors that encouraged me to study engineering in college.

Q - Do they teach you about nuclear weapons?

A - No. All I know about nuclear weapons I learned in college and from Tom Clancy.

Q - You didn't actually control the reactor. Officers did that, right?

A - Wrong. An officer was present to supervise the enlisted men, but the Engineering Officer of the Watch (EOOW) is actually the most junior officer position on the ship. The enlisted men have complete control of the reactor control and electrical systems. We were expected to react to changes in the plant without orders from the EOOW. As such, the enlisted men usually knew quite a bit more about the system than the junior officers.

Q - So did you make more money than other sailors?

A - Yes. Submarine sailors get extra pay for being on submarines as well as pay for being on a sea going vessel. Sailors in the nuclear field get still more pay for that specialty. That being said, I still technically hovered around the poverty line. However, given all the benefits (free housing, free medical, etc.), the pay was quite fair. A disciplined person could save up quite a bit of money.

Q - Was boot camp hard?

A - Yes and no. It was often physically demanding, but since I was only expected to do what I was told and little more, I consider boot camp to have been the easiest portion of my time in the Navy.

Q - Why did you get out?

A - My time was up, and I wanted to go to college. I was offered several thousand dollars to re-enlist, but I wanted to further my education.

Q - Did the government pay for your college education?

A - I signed up for the Montgomery G.I. Bill in boot camp. I paid $100 a month into it for my first year. Upon release from active duty, I started college and received 36 monthly payments that were periodically increased for the cost of living. Payments were around $525. When my benefits were finally exhausted, I only had one semester left to pay for. So while it didn't pay for everything, it was an enormous help. It also helped that I was paying in-state tuition at a state university.

Q - How can I join a submarine crew and fire the weapons?

A - You can talk to your local Navy recruiter or call 1-800-327-NAVY. I've gotten E-mail from people recently who seemed unusually interested in weaponry. Make no mistake, the use of weapons on a sub is a very controlled team effort. No one person can fire a weapon under any circumstance. We only shot a handful of practice shots the entire time I was onboard. Mostly we shot water slugs, i.e. fill the tube with water and shoot that.

Q - Why do Sailors and Marines resent each other so much?
A - Marines think sailors have it too easy and have questionable sexual orientations. Sailors think that Marines are nothing but a bunch of slack-jawed, mouth breathing Neanderthals whose only purpose is to kill people and break things. Honestly though, I have more respect for what Marines do for our country than any other service, including the Navy. I know I'm not tough enough to be one. And I hope to God that that Tony hasn't read this far.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

For Valentine's Day this year, love the one you're with. It could be a lot worse.


Sunday, February 12, 2006

How to Live 800 feet Underwater and Not Die

At first glance it was a frightening and sobering image.
The fast attack submarine USS Puffer rested ominously next to
the pier. Free of the usual array of decks, railings, guns
and other structures seen on most Navy ships,this streamlined
beast seemed built for a singular purpose, to seek and destroy
with the torpedoes hidden somewhere inside. Roughly as long
as a football field and painted completely black, it symbolized
death incarnate and grew more frightening as I walked closer.

I had spent two years so far in my military life in a
classroom learning how to run the nuclear reactor that powered
this behemoth. But as I crossed the rickety metal bridge that
spanned the distance between the pier and the ship, I became
more and more anxious. I had heard rumors about harassment,
hard work, and claustrophobia, but my instructors had always
maintained an air of mystery about the truth of submarines. I
had no idea what to expect.

I was escorted down the one, small hatch by a member of
the crew who seemed amused at my wide-eyed amazement. As we
dropped down into the first level and my eyes adjusted to the
relative darkness, my nose was assaulted by the smell of oil
and sweat. I sought to hear my escort over the soft roar of
ventilation fans as he described various pieces of equipment.
I was shown to my bunk that was nestled in between two huge,
green torpedoes. Almost as soon as I had packed away some meager
belongings, a loud voice blared something over the ships P.A.
system. Every member of the 120 man crew seemed to begin
scurrying at once. I managed to find my way to the mess deck.
The most spacious room on board, it was where the crew ate,
watched movies, or just hung out. Even here, space was cramped
as crew members donned life vests and harnesses. Other people
were pulling out bags of tools, and still others tromped in,
sweating and complaining about the heat in the engine room.

After about an hour, during which time I tried to stay out
of the way, I heard another announcement proclaiming that, "The
ship is underway!", and a chill went up my spine as I knew that
this was the beginning of four years of sea duty. It would mean
being out to sea for any amount of time from four days to six
months. Although we would only be gone a week this time, I was
not sure I could take the pressure. I had heard stories from my
instructors about guys who literally went nuts from the bizarre
life submariners lead. My daydreaming was interrupted by a rough
looking guy sitting across from me. "Who the hell are you?", he
barked at me.

"Uhh, Atwell. I'm a new guy.", I sheepishly replied.

"Great, that's all we need. Another friggin' nub", he sighed
and then commenced ignoring me. I would find out later that "nub"
stood for Non-Useful Body.

As my luck would have it, the seas were a bit rough that
day. Having never been on any other boat than the Belle of
Louisville, a massive steamboat on the Ohio River, I was
immediately affected by the slow rocking of the ship. The further
out in the channel we traveled, the more the ship teetered back
and forth, and the sicker I became. I heard some mild chuckling
as I stumbled out of the room toward my bunk. To my amazement, the
ship began to get tossed so badly that I was slammed right and
left into the wood paneling of the passageway. I soon reached my
bunk, crawled on top, held on for dear life and tried to sleep it
off. The last thing I remembered was a loud klaxon blaring and a
man's voice announcing, "Dive! Dive!". The entire ship tilted
again, only this time nose-down, and the rocking immediately
stopped. With my world now still, I drifted off to sleep.

"BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!". I was jolted awake by this noise.
I promptly smacked my head on the torpedo rack and lay back down,
clutching my skull. A huge dark blur rushed by and threw an air mask
on my chest. I did not understand what he said, but I realized I
should get up for the fire drill. I lurched out of my bunk, hit my
head again, and stumbled toward the crew's mess, trying to wrestle
on my air mask. I had just walked into the room with my mask
adjusted, when I realized I could not breathe. I had forgotten to
plug the masks into one of many air connections that jutted from
the overhead. More stifled laughter erupted as the crew watched the
"nub" try to get air. I was so thrilled to breathe when I found a
free connection that I did not see the 200 pound monster with a bag
of tools as he bowled me over upon entering. By the time they
announced ,"The fire is out!", I was ready to go back home and crawl
into a big ball.

The rest of the week was filled with insults from the crew and
complete neglect from my superiors. No one seemed to have time to
grade my initial qualification exam, see me for interviews, or even
tell me what I was supposed to do while they worked. I had never
felt so alone. How could I possibly take this for four years? The
hours would drag by until Friday, the final day at sea. On Wednesday
as I wandered alone through the engine room, I noticed a small depth
gauge bolted to the bulkhead. On its tiny face a needle pointed to
the number "800". I looked up and recalled the fact that there were
eight hundred feet of water between us and all the fresh air in the
world. As I contemplated the fact that we would could all die if we
somehow lost the ability to return to the surface, a voice broke my
concentration. "Don't worry, Atwell, you'll get used to it." The
voice came from a shocking creature resembling a sailor covered with
oil and soot. "My name's Palmer. I've been here about month", he
continued.

"What have you been doing?", I asked.

"Just some maintenance on the motor-generator. Hey, I heard you
freaked out during the fire drill. Everybody goes through it. Don't
stress out over this place; it's not worth it."

"Thanks, I'll live I guess," I replied.

"Cool, see ya" , Palmer said before spinning around and
descending down a hatch in the floor.

* * *

"So you goin' to O'Hungry's tonight with us?"

"I can't. I'm not twenty-one yet", I replied between sips of
coffee. It was finally Friday. Palmer sat across from me on the mess
deck as the ship steamed toward San Diego.

"That's too bad. Maybe we'll just let you drive us!"

I laughed at this and continued to drink. Okay, so it was not so
bad. There were at least twenty other nubs learning the horrors of
submarine life with me. It took me awhile to find them, since they
spent most of their time studying or cleaning. I learned that, yes,
it was very tough at first, but if I stuck with it, I would get used
to the abuse.

At the sound of "The ship is moored!", the attitude changed for
everyone. We shared one thought alone: to get the hell out of here.
The shaft of sunshine was blinding as it shot through that one same
open hatch. I had never seen such a beautiful day. The ocean
glittered deep blue while holding up dozens of white sailboats in San
Diego bay. The beaches on either side of the pier were littered with
the whitest sand and the tallest palms. I breathed in the clean,
oil-free, air and walked off the brow. As I headed toward my barracks,
I knew I had better make the weekend count. After all, we were going
out again on Monday.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

My Rant On Driving

  • I'm not tailgating you. I'm just in hurry. Get out of the way.

  • No, I will not just "Leave earlier." My boss won't let me leave work at 4:00 PM just to beat traffic. I have better things to do than drive around at 25 MPH behind you. The best way I have found to maximize my time with work and family is to minmize time driving.

  • Oh, you say you are doing society a favor by slowing down dangerous speeders like me? Well then I pray you never have to drive your three-year-old son to the emergency room with a 104°F fever.

  • Old people: Younger people drive faster on the expressway. Your time is past. Accept it. If not, take the side roads. Or stay home and watch "Wheel of Fortune". I really don't care.

  • Also the elderly: don't let your mouth hang open while driving. It's distracting and disgusting. I see this way too often.

  • I've never had an accident attributed to speed. Stupidity, yes. Speed, no.

  • To the younger crowd: Your car stereo is more expensive than mine. You win. Now turn it
    down. You may enjoy "Fiddy Cent", but the rest of us don't

  • On a similar note, if you put a $1000 stereo in an $800 car, you are an idiot.

  • It's okay to pass a cop on the freeway. Really. Even if you have to go sixty in fifty-five. They have better things to do than pulling you over.

  • Turn signals. Use them. I doesn't matter if you are changing lanes or changing your mind. If I see yours, I will be so impressed, that I will actually let you in front of me. Really.

  • Turn your lights on (not just the parking lights) if it is dusk, foggy, raining, snowing, etc. They are there so that others can see YOU, not the other way around.

  • On a similar note, don't use your bright lights in foggy weather. It just makes it worse.

  • If you are lost, pull over and ask someone. Don't drive around at 15 mph during rush hour. Get a map next time. They're cheap. Or Mapquest, it's free. Make an effort, people.

  • If you miss your exit, oh well, you should have been paying attention. Go on to the next one and turn around. Please do not careen across three lanes of traffic to get off the freeway.

  • Don't match my speed just off my left rear tire. That's called a blind spot. Pass me or get away from my car.

  • Yes, I drive a little faster than normal sometimes. I also have 20/20 vision and quick reflexes. Do you?

  • To women: Don't ever use the mirror in your sun visor while driving. This includes while you are stopped at light.

  • To everyone else: HANG UP or PULL OVER! You are not paying attention! Alternatively, you can buy one of those little hands-free earbuds for $10 at Comp-USA or Best Buy. They work wonderfully.

  • You don't have to pass on the right. I'll get over. Really. When the light turns green, it's okay to go. You don't have to wait for the person next to you to go first.

Friday, February 03, 2006

The rants of a proud, young, conservative veteran...

I've been meaning to do this for a while. When a friend got his blog up and running, I figured it was my time, too.

I already have a cutesy web page where I post all the family pictures, etc., but nothing like this. I have a lot of opinions, or I could just be full of crap.

Let's see what happens.