A lot of houses and neighborhoods are walled off from the street--as in this rather mundane shot on an early morning drive. The walls may help reduce noise, enhance privacy and protect residents from predatory behavior, but they also have an isolating effect as well. The walls at street corners also block views of adjacent traffic.

Traffic was flowing pretty well today along Flamingo heading toward the Strip. It's always great when you can hit a string of green lights, one-after-the-other. I understand there's a computerized method that helps facilitate traffic flow in this way.

I read today in "The Rebel Yell," the student newspaper here on the UNLV campus, that the Department of Transportation awarded UNLV $460,000 to put toward a regional transportation center. This money will help students and faculty with research materials, career opportunities, and training on transportation matters. This is of course, very welcome news in this day of budget cuts and talk of university financial exigency--which is basically a declaration of bankruptcy.

Maybe the transportation center will dream up a way to charge tolls along the Strip or other roads in Vegas to help sustain our educational system.

Cloudy days are great for driving. No glare. No special eyeware needs. No heat. Yes, cloudy days are especially nice in Las Vegas because they're rare and provide relief from the constant sunshine. Having recently had a small blot of skin cancer removed, you understand my mood here--nothing serious--just your everyday basal cell carcinoma--the most common, easily treatable form of skin cancer, yet still scary. But beyond that, cloudy days make me nostalgic. Having been born and raised in Upstate New York where it rains and snows and is generally cloudy a lot, such days bring back childhood memories.

But look too at the tangle of power lines in the picture. You see them everywhere. They're not the most aesthetically pleasing aspect of our desert city skyline. A little forward-thinking might have conceived of a system of underground powerlines, although some say the hard caliche just beneath the sandy desert soil makes such an endeavor prohibitively costly. Still, a place that banks of tourism, entertainment, and providing visitors with a pleasant time ought to consider the visual details of this place.

This truck has character. I liked it enough to take a picture of it.

The yellow sign says, "This vehicle not responsible for objects coming from road." I guess if the truck kicks something up that was laying in the road and the object hits your car you have no right to sue the truck's owner, or otherwise seek compensation for your freshly dented or scratched vehicle. I'm not sure how you would prove whether or not a chunk of rock came from the road rather from a load it was hauling. I mean, it looks like it carries rocks, doesn't it? I think this is definitely a rock dumping truck. Definitely a smart move Mr. Truck Owner.

As George Wallace smiles down upon us hapless driving lot, we maneuver away from the construction along Flamingo Road near Bally's. That section of Flamingo has to be one of the ugliest stretches of road in the city. The cracks in the road are so big they are clearly visible in the accompanying picture taken on my drive to work this morning. It's hard to avoid road construction in Las Vegas. It seems to be everywhere.

Thank god for George Wallace and all the semi-clad young women seen along the roadways to keep our hearts and minds joyful as we cruise the roads of Vegas. If not for them and their smiling faces, lord only knows what might become of us.

Until next time, I remain your law abiding friend on the roadway . . . .

On most days, driving to and from work at the university, I cross over the world famous "Strip," Las Vegas Boulevard. Lately, either because I try to get to work early and leave early, or because of the down economy, crossing the Strip via any of the many intersections has not been much of a problem.

Last night my wife took me out for my 50th birthday and we had a chance to cross the Strip as pedestrians. Walking across, I had forgotten how wide the Strip really is. One can't dally on the Strip due to the aggressive taxis turning into hotel drives off the Strip, but as I crossed, I looked down the boulevard. The sun was just setting and the colorful light was glinting of the shiny, towering hotels. It was one of those memorable postcard-type images. Not having a camera, it will have to live in memory for the time being.

It's Sunday and I haven't done any driving today. I have however contemplated the idea of driving in Las Vegas and what it means. What defines driving and drivers in Las Vegas?

Vegas is an interesting mix of the aggressive and the cautious driver. And maybe this is no different than any place else, and maybe very similar to places where you find retirement communities. Old drivers, of course, represent the cautious element; slow, deliberate, goal-driven drivers. And then you have those out there who just don't seem to care about you or themselves for that matter; unlawfully fast, cellphone-using, maniacal drivers. It's a place where driving the speed limit is optional and possibly not safe because everyone else is paced at 5-25 miles an hour faster. It's a place where a yellow light means speed up and make it through the intersection at any cost. Mind you, I won't claim to be guiltless here.

May Karl Benz have mercy on us all.

I think many people living in Las Vegas, Nevada, or those who have visited, or those who have lived here and left, have stories of their driving experiences in this strange and wonderous city. I know I do . . . . And I hope to use this medium to vent, critique, and just tell stories of life (and death) on the road here.

Coming to work this Saturday morning to the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, past speeding, screaming ambulances, road maintenance, and hitting that damn lump of asphalt in the middle lane of Flamingo heading east near the Palms brought thoughts of the many aspects of driving in this city and its surrounding neighborhoods. From mundane ponderings like, "how did that lump of asphalt get there?" to humble prays for whomever those ambulances were going to, one wonders and philosophizes as one drives--hopeful in ones own safe arrival.

And so I start this blog . . . . Drive safely everyone!