I’m not sure whether it’s just a local myth, or nationally-known fact, but along with our crime rate and spectacular barbecue, Memphis is known for its bad drivers. What, I think, it boils down to, is the fact that drivers in Memphis disregard not only the rules as outlined in the Tennessee Driver’s Handbook, but the laws of common sense and courtesy.

For instance, there is a narrow alleyway between the building in which I work and the garage adjacent to it. The alleyway is wide enough for only one vehicle, and at the end of said alleyway, there is a ONE WAY sign pointing toward Jefferson Ave, which, if you work where I do, makes it an exit, and an exit only.

I was leaving work this afternoon, and as I was about to turn into the alley, nearly collided head-on with another driver. Instead of gesturing an apology, he smiled and shrugged. I’m sorry, “Whoopsie” is not appropriate in that situation. What could have happened, had I not been paying attention, goes without saying.

Then, less then a mile away, I was driving down Danny Thomas, approaching the interstate. An ambulance, sirens blaring, approached, and as I began to pull over to the side of the road, the driver of the truck in front of me decided he or she would prefer just to stop, in the lane, without warning. Two close calls, within not even three minutes’ time.

All this is in addition to the offensive driving I deal with every single day on my commute. People see me signaling to change lanes and pass, and speed up so I can’t get over. Turn signals? Yeah, right.

Driving woes aside, it’s been a good week. Tuesday we attended the Memphis Business Journal’s Small Business Awards, for which MPC was nominated. They “lost” to the Great American Homestore, which I can accept, since we bought our living room furniture there. But if there had been a “looks” category, Pizza Cafe would have won, hands down. Look at those GMs. Talk about sharp.

And as you may know it’s Barbecue Fest weekend, which is probably one of my favorite times to be a Memphian all year, since it combines three of my favorite things: drinking (free) beer, eating (free) food, and making fun of people. The freaks really come out of hiding for BBQ. Drunk people walking barefoot down Riverside, 14-year-old girls in miniskirts so short you wonder where those girls’ parents are, folks from “across the river,” folks from “across the tracks…” You get my drift. I often wonder where some of these people hide the rest of the year. Like this guy.

Oh, wait. Thanks for looking after my purse B!

Alan, who usually hands out free Camels at the bars, was passing out Mentos at the gate. Of course, it was only a matter of time before certain members of our party got scientific.

And good times were had by all.

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