Car no match for back end of a parked lumber truck, around 1 p.m. in the high-speed right lane breakdown lane on Rte. 128 south near Rte. 16.

Wade Roush walks around, photographs the ghost cloverleaf of Canton, built for the Highway that Never Was - the Southwest Expressway meant to gouge through Boston and Cambridge (along the route of today's Orange Line, basically).

Just remember: You are no match for a truck.

Three-car rush-hour smashup narrowly averted on Rte. 128 today by two drivers far more alert than the loser who slammed on her brakes in the fast lane while texting.

A tractor trailer, minivan and a passenger car, around 2:30 p.m., nobody hurt.

Last night on the ice on the southbound side in Weston. Nobody hurt. Meanwhile there was a Masshole in an SUV who took off after hitting an ambulance in Dorchester.

Harry knows first-hand why traffic was bollixed up on 128 in Canton this morning: There was this pothole that had been there for a week, but the state didn't do anything about it until it expanded to axle-destroying size last night and MassHighway had to get a state trooper to block a lane to keep people from getting swallowed up by the hole that it hadn't bothered to fix when it was more manageable in size.

Dave Atkins ponders the implications of the giant Westwood Station project (massive housing/office complex next to the 128 train station) on the small town:

... I think the alternative to growth is stagnation, so I am supportive of the project. I do wish there was more discussion of the vision behind it and some way in the community to think about this as more than just a tax revenue source or traffic magnet. Time will tell the fate of our growth.

Kirk Williamson's video, above, shows his commute this morning from Cape Ann to Beverly. Not the most exciting thing in the world once you realize he's figured out how to drive down 128 in the snow while holding a camera and so won't be sliding off the road - until the last 15 seconds or so, when you will see something that will make you burst out laughing because it is just so ludicrously absurd.

With little else to do during a monumental turnpike backup last week, Liz composed a prayer that begins:

Oh merciful heavens, hear my cry! Your child mourns in the dark valley of the Turnpike, and wails upon the stones of 128, and gnashes her teeth and heaps ashes upon her head when she hath the folly to attempt Route 9 as an alternate route. Oh, maketh my lane to clear, oh Lord! ...