Confessions of a Former Commuter
I used to commute to work. Four days a week, I was driving through farmland and small patches of wilderness for about one and a half hours then returning at the end of my work day. I worked shift work, so I was fortunate not to be caught in the same traffic patterns all the time. Some days the road was packed, some days it was empty. I did get to the point where I knew some of my fellow travelers by sight, and could predict where certain cars would either join the parade, or leave it.
The first few weeks of the commute were brutal. I was still an aggressive, impatient driver, and wanted to make the best time possible. I rarely put on the cruise control, and spent a lot of time in the other lane, passing those who obviously weren't in as much of a hurry as I was. That soon changed as the drive became rote. I began using the cruise. I had listened to all two thousand songs on my USB key. Then one day it happened, I realized that I was spending a massive amount of time in my vehicle, which suddenly seemed to be able to drive itself. When you can pass through entire towns, so deep in thought about whatever is occupying your mind, it is very alarming when you arrive in the next town down the line, with no recollection of being in the previous town. But I trusted my Escape, it knew the way.
People, please listen to me. When you are on a two lane highway, and you reach a passing lane, I beseech you, please, please maintain the same speed you were already driving at. Daily I would be behind a car that was travelling at a slower speed than I was. I would take the cruise off, and wait, with the patience of someone who has done this a thousand times, for a passing lane. Almost every time, as soon as that second lane opens up, that person who is happily rolling along at ten clicks below the limit, suddenly floors it, and its like a formula one race with all the cars on the road speeding up and jockeying for position. Do not do this. If you do this, you are undoubtedly what my supervisor at work calls a fucktard. Go whatever speed you want, but if you are going eighty and I cannot pass you, and I finally get a passing lane, and you launch off at one hundred and twenty, to catch up to the cars ahead, you had best be going one twenty when that lane ends. This is rarely the case. Usually it is right back down to eighty, ten clicks below the limit, at the front of the rest of the pack, who can no longer get around you. I arrived at the conclusion that one should be able to contact the driver of any vehicle, by dialing, (hands free of course) the licence plate. I would have called many drivers and said only one word: "Fucktard."
People, please listen to me. When you are on a two lane highway, and you reach a passing lane, I beseech you, please, please maintain the same speed you were already driving at. Daily I would be behind a car that was travelling at a slower speed than I was. I would take the cruise off, and wait, with the patience of someone who has done this a thousand times, for a passing lane. Almost every time, as soon as that second lane opens up, that person who is happily rolling along at ten clicks below the limit, suddenly floors it, and its like a formula one race with all the cars on the road speeding up and jockeying for position. Do not do this. If you do this, you are undoubtedly what my supervisor at work calls a fucktard. Go whatever speed you want, but if you are going eighty and I cannot pass you, and I finally get a passing lane, and you launch off at one hundred and twenty, to catch up to the cars ahead, you had best be going one twenty when that lane ends. This is rarely the case. Usually it is right back down to eighty, ten clicks below the limit, at the front of the rest of the pack, who can no longer get around you. I arrived at the conclusion that one should be able to contact the driver of any vehicle, by dialing, (hands free of course) the licence plate. I would have called many drivers and said only one word: "Fucktard."
When winter came, I would cautiously peek out the window while coffee was brewing, to see if any snow had fallen. This had a major impact on my day. There were only ten or so days a winter that were absolutely nightmarish, but i got used to driving in all weather conditions very quickly. The fog was worse than the snow, and freezing rain the most exciting of all. One night I was about twenty kilometers into my ride to work and it was snowing fairly heavily. I had the cruise on one hundred and eight, which was not quite twenty clicks over the speed limit. I was making good time, the road was partially snow covered, but I still had lots of road, and the traction seemed good. I was all alone on the road, there were no taillights ahead of me, so no traffic to slow me down, all systems go. The snow started to blow off of the lake beside the highway, and visibility had dropped significantly. My spider senses started to tingle. As I rounded a corner, there was a shadow in my lights just ahead of me. I touched the brake and started to slow down, then suddenly, in the lights of oncoming traffic I saw what the shadow was, an eighteen wheeler going about sixty. The snow had encrusted the back end of the trailer, covering the rear lights. I was within two minutes of driving straight into the back of him, but luckily providence prevailed.
The next time I tempted fate, I was passing a tractor trailer on a stretch of road that ran alongside a small river, more of a creek really, with bush on the other side of the road. Out of the trees along the river bolted two deer, who had calculated the odds, and figured they were fast enough to make it across in front of the hurtling transport. They had not counted on me being right alongside the front of the rig as they passed. How could they have known? Well that is exactly where I was, and I missed the back end of the second deer by less than six inches. If I had hit them, if the driver of the transport had swerved, if I had swerved, well none of those possibilities has a happy ending. Fortunately, the driver of the rig held his course, the deer ran safely off into the woods, I passed, put on my signal, and re-positioned into my lane, and reset the cruise control. About twenty kilometers down the road, I finally exhaled. That was fucking close. I reached the next town, where there was a concrete statue of Jesus by the road with his arms outstretched, watching over those travelling past on the highway. I had driven by him countless times, noticing only that he could use a coat of paint, but thinking nothing more of it. He could have been a ball of twine. This day, I said hello, and thank you, and have every day since when I pass. I figured someone must have been watching out for me. If it wasn't this guy, maybe he knew who was, and could pass it along.
Driving at night was usually a lot of fun, especially in the spring and fall, when there was no overnight traffic, and the roads were still in good shape. Turn up the tunes and let it ride. Except for one night when there was a shadow on the shoulder that was darker than the surrounding night. It was a moose making the same judgement call as his cousins the deer had a few months earlier. I read that there was a fatal accident involving a moose on that stretch of highway the following week, and realized that I was pushing my luck, that spending at least three hours on the road a day, was eventually going to wind up in some sort of accident, even with my new relationship with the concrete Jesus.
The final straw came one day when I had just finished a midnight shift, and was heading home in the early morning. The car was a Camaro, it came up behind me and passed, before I was aware he was there. I had drifted off for a few seconds, and woke up when I started to drift into his lane. It wasn't a very close call, I'm sure he didn't notice, but I was disoriented and suddenly this car flies by feet from my face. That was that. I moved the next month, and am now only half an hour from work via secondary roads, not the main highway. It was a great decision to move closer to work, even though we loved where we had been living. This gives me ten more hours a week to spend with my family and the price of gas has gone up quite a bit, so it is much easier on the pocketbook. Sometimes my trip to or from work seems a little too short, especially when they are playing the right music for my mood on the satellite radio, but I rarely miss the commute. Most importantly, standing by the side of the road on my new route to work is another concrete Jesus, whom I greet every time I drive by. Just in case.
The next time I tempted fate, I was passing a tractor trailer on a stretch of road that ran alongside a small river, more of a creek really, with bush on the other side of the road. Out of the trees along the river bolted two deer, who had calculated the odds, and figured they were fast enough to make it across in front of the hurtling transport. They had not counted on me being right alongside the front of the rig as they passed. How could they have known? Well that is exactly where I was, and I missed the back end of the second deer by less than six inches. If I had hit them, if the driver of the transport had swerved, if I had swerved, well none of those possibilities has a happy ending. Fortunately, the driver of the rig held his course, the deer ran safely off into the woods, I passed, put on my signal, and re-positioned into my lane, and reset the cruise control. About twenty kilometers down the road, I finally exhaled. That was fucking close. I reached the next town, where there was a concrete statue of Jesus by the road with his arms outstretched, watching over those travelling past on the highway. I had driven by him countless times, noticing only that he could use a coat of paint, but thinking nothing more of it. He could have been a ball of twine. This day, I said hello, and thank you, and have every day since when I pass. I figured someone must have been watching out for me. If it wasn't this guy, maybe he knew who was, and could pass it along.
Driving at night was usually a lot of fun, especially in the spring and fall, when there was no overnight traffic, and the roads were still in good shape. Turn up the tunes and let it ride. Except for one night when there was a shadow on the shoulder that was darker than the surrounding night. It was a moose making the same judgement call as his cousins the deer had a few months earlier. I read that there was a fatal accident involving a moose on that stretch of highway the following week, and realized that I was pushing my luck, that spending at least three hours on the road a day, was eventually going to wind up in some sort of accident, even with my new relationship with the concrete Jesus.
The final straw came one day when I had just finished a midnight shift, and was heading home in the early morning. The car was a Camaro, it came up behind me and passed, before I was aware he was there. I had drifted off for a few seconds, and woke up when I started to drift into his lane. It wasn't a very close call, I'm sure he didn't notice, but I was disoriented and suddenly this car flies by feet from my face. That was that. I moved the next month, and am now only half an hour from work via secondary roads, not the main highway. It was a great decision to move closer to work, even though we loved where we had been living. This gives me ten more hours a week to spend with my family and the price of gas has gone up quite a bit, so it is much easier on the pocketbook. Sometimes my trip to or from work seems a little too short, especially when they are playing the right music for my mood on the satellite radio, but I rarely miss the commute. Most importantly, standing by the side of the road on my new route to work is another concrete Jesus, whom I greet every time I drive by. Just in case.
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