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6/21/2004

As I escaped from the rubberhead factory today to get my truck's wheels aligned I drove up on some worker guys fixin' the road. Orange barrels, vests and all.
As I approached, the guy holding the "Slow" sign held his hand paralell to the road (perpinicular to the road being the well-known signal for "Stop" or "Put your hand against mine to celebrate our football game victory or the completion of our Pine Wood Derby Car."). As I was going 45 m.p.h., I decided to heed his advice.
35 m.p.h. ... his hand is still up, slow down more.
20 m.p.h. ... still up ... more brake.
10 m.p.h. ... hand up, foot down, time slowing
5 m.p.h. ... is this ....
2 m.p.h. ... guy serious ...
Stopped.
The guy nods his head to let me know I was now traveling at the proper speed, 0 m.p.h., the speed of rocks and pens. I had reached Absolute Slow, dorks.
My jaw dropped and my stare went blank to celebrate the occasion.
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