Wednesday, December 8, 2010

My Commute is Hell


(See, this is the kind of thing I'm dealing with.)



First I have to back out of my driveway. Its straight, but at a weird angle, so its not totally easy, not everyone gets it right. Then I have to stop at my mailbox and get out of the car and reach in and you just never know what might be in there. Mail sometimes, and not cute mail with stickers on the envelopes, but the bad kind, from people who want things.

Then, back in the car, which isn't warm yet, and that's uncomfortable. Down my road. Why is that barn just in a heap like that? I mean, a gas can and a match, someone? Anyone? Then that stop sign. There might be a car coming and I have to wait for it to pass, sometimes its a truck, a big truck, and they're loud and scary. A left turn down the hill. I pick up speed and sometimes there's wind in my hair, but mostly not, because I have to quickly make a right turn, which kills the momentum.

Then over the highway on that bridgy overpass thing, which is kind of gross and urban seeming. By the park. What is with the kids and sports? All the time playing, playing, playing. And the parents, on folding chairs, cheering them on endlessly, forever.

A dip in the road past that house that someone built in the boom, but has been dark with the Pella stickers on the windows ever since. Oy, with the consumption!

Then a right. Almost immediately that road kill, which by God, hasn't changed with even the most intentional pulverizing by other cars. Why don't they build planes out of that stuff? That dead thing will survive anything.

And down the hill I go, past the wet lands. If I'm not waiting for a flock of turkeys to amble across with their gang-like attitude, just begging for me to toot my horn at them, then its deer, with that look they give you. You know the one I mean.

I saw a possum once with seven babies on her back and I was like, man, that's too many kids, take it easy on the overpopulation already.

Then up the hill. There is always someone jogging in one of those florescent vests and those really hurt my eyes, and yet I can't look away.

Then down the hill again, Christ its hilly. Past the cemetery with those really old headstones and the trees and all that grass and it almost always makes me think of death, and who wants to start their day that way? Its across the street from the retirement community that they built like the Death Star right across the street, I guess so the folks wouldn't have that far to go, and that place really makes me think of death, because its so vast and so many old people live there in nicely appointed apartments.

In that sneaky second driveway of the cemetery there's nearly always a speed trap, a cop just waiting for you to be driving faster than 30 mph, and really can a car go that slowly? Especially with the driver speeding away from death like that?

Just like that its all residential Chagrin with those little century homes with creative plantings, or now, the Christmas decorations, like that's going to cheer anyone up. Then I have to slow way down because my turn is coming up, and it looks like a lot of other little possible turns, so I have to be on my best game.

Its a sharp right, and I have to watch out for kids, in their little hats, walking to school. Come ON already. Then a random stop sign, which honestly is a waste of tax payer dollars. No one drives down this street except the people who live on it, or work on it, like me. So that's government waste right there, and really, do we need any more reminders?

Then I'm there, at the shop, and its been six minutes, which is not enough time to have finished my coffee.

You think this is bad, you should try it on a bike.

7 comments:

  1. What is with the kids and sports? All the time playing, playing, playing. And the parents, on folding chairs, cheering them on endlessly, forever.

    Holden Caulfield reborn as exurban mom.

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  2. PERCY COBBLEDICK???

    my favorite moment is waiting for the gang of turkeys to cross the road.....
    write on, Miss Schickel!

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  3. I'm told Percy (known locally as Percy The Slow) was loading powder into his musket when he was tragically felled by a gaggle of geese. Came out of nowhere, they say...

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  4. Oh, your dreaded driveway! So many times I've gotten stuck barreling down that darn thing! Oh well, at least it gives the kids something to tease me about! :)

    And by the way, blog soon please! I love reading what you've got... it takes me right back to the Schickel/Vild residence.

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  5. This is Dick Cobbledick, and I am deeply offended, as are all of us here in the urology dept.

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