Are you ready to be liberated
On this sad side city street
Well the birds have been freed from their cages
I got freedom and my youth
The traffic report for this afternoon is looking fuck you. Coming out of the city at four o'clock is probably the stupidest goddamn thing you can do if you're behind the wheel of a car. You are not driving so much as pleading for merciful death somewhere near the back of a half-mile line of cars on Clayton Road. Seconds after passing Lindbergh you crest the hill and can see the snakedance of steel winding around the distant corner, no head in sight. Do yourself a favor and turn off at Spoede. Do yourself a favor and die. Do me a favor and die, just pull your car onto the shoulder first.
The first thing to notice on Spoede is the doubled fine for breaking the 30 mph speed limit. Why are the fines doubled? Because a bunch of old, wealthy white people don't want you to have any fun, or hope. That's why the jumped-up driveways that lead off Spoede to dead-ends warrant four-way stops. I think that's also why Clayton Road is a single lane in each direction. Fuckin' whitey always keeping me down.
Drive Spoede to Ladue and congratulate yourself on not taking Conway, which looked as bad as Clayton. Joy is short-lived, though; the cars are packed from 270 halfway to Ballas. Try to Take I-270 South - I dare you. I double-dutch-dog-ear dare you. You won't even have to merge into traffic, the on-ramp lane runs into the off-ramp to 40. That's good, because the traffic in your lane is stopped, 0 mph. No accident, no construction, just a bunch of cars that are fucking stationary on a major interstate.
Basically you're exactly where you would have been if you'd stayed on Clayton, except you're actually able to use fourth gear once you're past 270, even shifting into the fabled fifth. Suck it, Clayton Road.
On this sad side city street
Well the birds have been freed from their cages
I got freedom and my youth
The traffic report for this afternoon is looking fuck you. Coming out of the city at four o'clock is probably the stupidest goddamn thing you can do if you're behind the wheel of a car. You are not driving so much as pleading for merciful death somewhere near the back of a half-mile line of cars on Clayton Road. Seconds after passing Lindbergh you crest the hill and can see the snakedance of steel winding around the distant corner, no head in sight. Do yourself a favor and turn off at Spoede. Do yourself a favor and die. Do me a favor and die, just pull your car onto the shoulder first.
The first thing to notice on Spoede is the doubled fine for breaking the 30 mph speed limit. Why are the fines doubled? Because a bunch of old, wealthy white people don't want you to have any fun, or hope. That's why the jumped-up driveways that lead off Spoede to dead-ends warrant four-way stops. I think that's also why Clayton Road is a single lane in each direction. Fuckin' whitey always keeping me down.
Drive Spoede to Ladue and congratulate yourself on not taking Conway, which looked as bad as Clayton. Joy is short-lived, though; the cars are packed from 270 halfway to Ballas. Try to Take I-270 South - I dare you. I double-dutch-dog-ear dare you. You won't even have to merge into traffic, the on-ramp lane runs into the off-ramp to 40. That's good, because the traffic in your lane is stopped, 0 mph. No accident, no construction, just a bunch of cars that are fucking stationary on a major interstate.
Basically you're exactly where you would have been if you'd stayed on Clayton, except you're actually able to use fourth gear once you're past 270, even shifting into the fabled fifth. Suck it, Clayton Road.
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