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Daily Jokes / Joke of the Day
For over a year, DeepLake has been running the Joke of the Day service. Unlike many other sites, we really do update our jokes every day so you get to see the funniest jokes. Keep coming back to DeepLake Daily Jokes to kick-start your day!

Good news: The Joke of the Day is back! Thanks for your patience.

Today's Joke (No.1/1)

Bruce Shares Driving Tips

Copyright W. Bruce Cameron

Nothing is more gratifying for a business traveler than to return from a
long, hard week on the road and have his loving children come running up
and shout adoringly, "what'd you bring me?" (By the time you have a
teenage daughter, the tiny bottles of shampoo from the hotel don't do
the trick. Try diamonds.)

Also fulfilling is to have your family press you for the exotic details
of the trip, and all you can remember is the airport, the rental car
place, and the inside of the hotel--in other words, every city looks the
same. The only difference is the way the people drive.

I've done a little traveling myself this past year, and, in an effort to
have something to tell my children, I made special note of the way
people in some cities handle their highways. Here is a quick
coast-to-coast review:

Driving in Boston is a bit like playing football, except that everyone
else is on the other team. Boston drivers act like they're taking
testosterone injections, with little old ladies sporting bumper stickers
which say, "Call me Terminator."

The streets of Boston were laid out in pre-Revolutionary war times by
drunken horsemen--it's possible to hit twenty intersections in a hundred
yards, all of them spilling cars into your path at oblique angles. Don't
look for traffic signs; Bostonians think traffic signs are for weenies.
Worse of all are the traffic circles, which suck in unwitting
automobiles like a black hole pulling in interstellar dust. Oncoming
vehicles do their best to keep you pinned inside the innermost crease.
Your only hope of escape from a traffic circle is to whiz round and
round at ever increasing speed until you are flung away by sheer
centrifugal force.
Kansas City

In Kansas City, drivers begin to prepare for an exit from the interstate
by flipping on their blinkers and slowing down several miles from the
turnoff. By the time they hit the off ramp, they are traveling no more
than four miles an hour, and have been doing so for thirty minutes.

Come to an intersection in Kansas City and stop at a red light and
everyone else stops too, waving in a most polite fashion for you to
proceed. This can be very confusing, since they have a green light and
you have the red--do the fools want you to break the law? Apparently so,
for they will wait, beaming and nodding encouragingly, while other
citizens pull up and smile at you as well. Three or four of these
Stepford stops and you begin to long for the streets of Boston.

The whole point of car travel in Detroit is to get where you are going
at the fastest possible speed. The automobiles have a special switch
which disconnects the brakes so no one will be tempted to use them
during rush hour, which is a continuous, white-hot flash of cars
screaming down the pavement at Mach 2.

Slow down due to friction or engine exhaustion while traveling in
Detroit and someone will instantly slot himself into place in front of
you. It really seems like you could put the car in neutral and
coast--the line of cars behind you would keep you pressing ahead at the
same berserk pace.

In some cities, the sight of a disabled or wrecked car by the side of
the road will cause a slowdown in the flow of traffic, as everyone
cranes their necks to see what happened. In Detroit, the same sight
causes everyone to speed up, under the assumption that one less car
means there is a gap up there somewhere to be filled.

Yet, no matter how fast they go, they are still stuck in Detroit.

In California, people don't actually drive anywhere. They pull onto
long, narrow parking lots called "freeways" and sit for hours with their
engines running.

The automobile exists strictly as a source of revenue in the Windy City.
Every dozen yards or so the cars are funneled through toll booths,
sucking every coin out of your pocket like locusts stripping a corn
field. These funds finance massive construction projects underway at
every mile, building, it appears, more toll booths.

Voted by the Windshield Replacement Workers of America as the best place
in which to live, Denver's roads are buried in several inches of gravel
that becomes airborne during high winds and sprays car windows like
machine gun fire. Everyone in Denver drives a sport utility vehicle, not
for the snow, but to get through all the sand on the highway.

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