A summer outing on the open road is one of America's most revered national traditions. But never forget that eternal vigilance is the price of having a Democrat in the White House, which means every patriotic motorist must take personal responsibility for ensuring that your loving family will never be dragged from the vehicle and mercilessly butchered in a weed infested culvert by Al-Qaeda henchmen, Taliban wannabes, or any other two-lane blacktop dead-enders.
Security starts before the engine does, of course. Your first task is to check all tires for proper inflation, then peer through the window on the driver's side and GET DOWN RIGHT NOW!! DOWN!! DOWN!! DO IT!!
Okay, that was a test run, but you get the point. It's all about reflex and reaction time. When your eyes detect the door has been jimmied or notice a box of unusual blinking lights taped to the dashboard, there's no time to waste hoping for some miracle beltway bailout. Kissing the pavement in one continuous motion isn't something the average person learns overnight, either. You need to:
A) Buy a foam rubber pad to minimize bruising.
B) Start practicing the "quick fall" every morning before breakfast.
C) Thank me later.
You think this is some kind of joke? Try laughing when an improvised C4 charge blows pieces of the steering wheel into your complacent skull at 400 feet per second. You'll need a Vicodin pill bigger than the Hindenburg to relieve that headache.
OH MY GOD, THAT GUY ACROSS THE STREET HAS A NAPALM CANISTER! Yeah, right, I know, there's nobody there. But next time may be different. FYI: you absolutely cannot--repeat-CANNOT ignore any living being or object within your personal line of sight. Full alert, full time. Never say it's "just somebody passing through" unless you want those words carved on your grave marker. Reagan Redux: Trust, but verify.
This war is 24/7 for the duration. The people who want our collective head on a platter don't take long bathroom breaks and they definitely aren't spending their free time watching bootleg videos of Mrs. Ga-Ga or whatever the hell her name is.
Do not for a moment think you're free and clear just because the gas station where you stopped to fill up is located in a quiet, pastoral setting. If the grease monkey wiping your windshield drops his dirty rag and bolts for the tall cotton without explanation, you should be able to chase him down and do a 10-second strip search in full stride.
That's the kind of thing they don't teach in public schools anymore and we know who to blame for making failure a national option. Mix LBJ with LSD and 50 years later it's USA-SOL. All that Great Society and "free love" mumbo jumbo gave a generation of hippie slackers a green light to breed like jackrabbits and now their misbegotten offspring are lining up to read Osama bin Laden his Miranda rights.
The basic speed law of the 21st century reads like this: Always go fast enough to keep the evil ones in the rear-view mirror. They want to get two steps ahead of us. You need to stay two weeks ahead of them, and opening up such a big lead is a no-brainer.
When your next extended highway excursion comes up on the calendar, just do a mental leap forward by 14 days, tell yourself everything went fine, and put the suitcases away. Trip over. Home safe and sound. Our side wins again.
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