Frogger

When I was a kid there was this game called "Frogger" where the whole point was to move your little green frog from the bottom of the screen to the top without getting squished in the process.

It was more difficult that it sounds, trust me.

I hadn't thought about this early arcade game in years, possibly decades until we drove through North Dakota on our way to Minnesota. (Yes, I said Arcade not Video. Because back in the early 80's we didn't have personal entertainment centers. We had to go to the arcade to play games. And the fact that "Arcade" sounds suspiciously like "Archaic" does not escape me.)

What does playing frogger have to do with driving, you might ask?

Well, I have an answer - I just wish I had pictures to go along with it.

Having experienced (and survived relatively unscathed) deer in the road in Montana, Meg and I were understandably skittish about driving through rural areas in the black of night. Especially since we figured out that the large number of deer and elk present was the result of our trip coinciding with peak mating season (damn those randy bucks!). Finding ourselves several hours away from our destination as the sun began to set was not comforting in the least.

Most of you who actually know me, know that I am not one to speed excessively. I try to keep the speedometer within a reasonable range of the posted speed limit.

As we approached Fargo and then crossed into Minnesota on our way to Hawley we noticed that as the GPS indicated a water source nearby the roads turned this eerie luminescent whitish-grey color.

It didn't take long for us to realize that this was due to the millions of frogs on the roadway. Whether it was hearing the scrunching noises or seeing them hop in a futile attempt to make it to the other side, we were understandably squeamish.

Hence the mental association of driving and frogger.

Meg was riding shotgun and we slowed our rate of speed to try to miss squishing as many as we could.

We couldn't help but emit a series of "Oh!" and "Oof" and other exclamations of remorse as we decimated the frog population of Northern America. Then (and I don't know if this is a sign of mental illness or other defect) we began laughing hysterically.

Meg chanting "Go little froggy Go!" followed immediately by "Oooo, you smooshed him" didn't help much either.

Note to self: it is not okay to crash your vehicle because you're trying to dodge an amphibian obstacle course at 75mph. It's just not.

I didn't point out at the time that there were several semi's and other vehicles behind us that weren't exercising such prudent caution and likely smashed those that escaped my tiny tires. Oh well, at least their little green souls aren't on my conscience.

For some reason I just had a mental image of Miss Piggy donning ninja attire in an attempt to avenge the lives lost on that dark and narrow stretch of road. Yeah, that must be another sign of mental illness or other defect that I mentioned earlier. heh.