I job-share, which allows me to work a week and then take a week off. I have driven the 19 miles to work approximately 953 times and (roughly) this is my commuting experience:
Once in my car, I immediately check the clock. If it glows anything beyond 7:26 am, there’s a chance I’ll be late for my 8:00 am start time. I have to admit that the car’s clock is set 8 minutes ahead. Consciously, I know it’s fast, but I still react as if it’s the correct time. I love that tiny bit of stress that makes my heart pound with a little excitement as I clutch the steering wheel, channel my inner Mario Andretti and frantically think, “OK! I CAN DO THIS!”
As I leave my subdivision, I hope that I can beat the line of eleven school buses. I see them coming. Are they far enough away for me to make the left turn? I go for it! I am now on the Super Highway of Profanity!
Once I’m heading in the right direction, I relax a bit and tune in to the radio. The topic is Kanye West’s latest tirade on Twitter. What fresh hell is this? I change the station. Now it’s talk of a mother arrested at a South Carolina grocery store for swearing in front of a baby. Really?
I bring my attention back to driving. I’m in the left lane behind a silver KIA mini van. I shake my head with thoughts about how today’s vehicles are mostly silver, tan, white or black and mainly shaped like eggs, high-tops or the occasional toaster. I reminisce about the good old days when the make, model and the year of a car were all recognizable.
And, I bring my attention back to driving. The KIA is going 10 miles under my speed limit of 5 miles over. I can’t go around because I’m boxed-in by the white Egg to my right. After what seems like hours, the white Egg speeds up a bit to let me in the right lane. As I drive past the KIA, I look at the driver with furrowed brows, who has a spooky, blue glow…she’s texting! Be courteous, people! If you’re going to text while driving, please do it in the right lane!
And I bring my attention back to driving. As I pass the White Castle plant, I glance at the clock. It reads 7:39. I’m in good shape. It’s exciting to know that I can now avoid ending up behind TANK bus #33. It never fails. That bus driver won’t pull over to the curb during the incessant stops, picking up shivering passengers — and you’re stopping right along with him!
And I bring my attention back to driving. A procession of red tail lights snake ahead, so I slow down and stop. It looks like this may take a few minutes. Looking around I see an early VW Beetle but can’t play Slug Bug, mainly because…well…I’m alone.
Next, I look at the license plate directly in front of me and the three letters are VGA. Time to come up with as many words with those letters in that order. “Vaguely”. No. Wait. That’s not right. “Vegas”, “vegan”…done. How about “JBL”? Uh, “jumble”, “adjustable”, “Jambalaya”…done.
I see a vanity plate that spells out “1 SILK TOY”. Who would spend an extra $25 for that message? But, I think, at least it’s readable. What does “LVNCAS” mean? I love the Incas? Leaving in case? In case of what? Why would someone choose a vanity plate that no one understands?
And I bring my attention back to driving. As I pass the high school, I must make sure I don’t get too close to the curb as the road curves right. The light poles are so close that if I hit one, it could snap the side mirror into the passenger side window and shatter it…(not that I’ve done that before).
And I bring my attention back to driving. I turn onto Greenup Street and a car off the side street turns in front of me. I brake so fast my purse slides to the floor like a grandma in socks on linoleum.
Almost to the office and, uh-oh. The “hair-combing guy” is in front of me. He’s not driving his old silver Saturn. He’s in a new silver Toaster-car. Running late while knowing his habits, I roll my eyes. Here we go. He stops at the first STOP sign. One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississippi, five-Mississippi, six-Mississippi while he furiously combs his comb over from the left ear to right. Next stop sign, it’s lather, rinse, repeat…one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi….comb, comb, comb, comb…what a control freak!
While I wait at the third STOP, I change the radio station. The topic: “Who said it: Donald Trump or Kanye West? Well, this might be entertaining!
“Money was never a big motivation for me, except as a way to keep score. The real excitement is playing the game.”
I say, “Donald Trump!” And yes! That is correct!
“I feel like I’m too busy writing history to read it.”
Because I’m not entirely sure he can read, I choose Kanye West! Correct!
And I bring my attention back to driving. As I approach the parking garage, I check the clock and it displays 8:00. That gives me a glorious 8 minutes!!! On level 3, the huge white Suburban tries (four times) to back into her spot. About five spaces down, the white Denali is simultaneously trying to back into her spot….in the meantime… “Who said it: Donald Trump or Kanye West?
‘You have to think anyway, so why not think big?”
I say, Kanye West! Wanh-wanh. What? It’s Trump? Sheesh, I guess I can’t tell those two apart.
And I bring my attention back to driving. As I approach the fourth level, in the mirror I see a car headed straight at me. Doomed for a head-on collision, my heart begins to beat frantically (because I’m going to die!)….Oh! Wait! Now I remember! The mirror is seriously askew and those are my headlights. Ha-ha, I dodged that bullet!
I see my spot waiting for me and pull in.
I head for the stairs trying to keep my eyes averted because if I look at the “STAIR” sign on the door, it’ll ruin a few minutes of my morning. I can’t help it…I look.
Up the stairs…eight steps, a landing, eight more steps. I’m here with three minutes to spare! My heart erupts in glad Hosannas!
If you’re exhausted reading this post, just think how exhausted I am at the end of my ride to the office.
The first cut is the deepest. The rest of my work week will be a cinch and it’s awesome that I get a week between shifts so I have time to prepare for my next, “first commute” of the week.
