A long long time ago, I used to commute every workday 40 miles south of here, along Hwy. 101. Now, I know it could have been worse. I could have been commuting to Sacramento, where there is nothing to look at but fields of onions and tomatoes, miles and miles of flatland. My drive took me through rolling hills, past the Petaluma river and that wondrous dairy farm that was home to all those sweet cowladies. And, this semester, I am commuting 16 miles south, again. Only twice a week, but major deja vu happening. My class ends at 4 PM, just in time to catch the leading edge of the Daily Lurch north. Good little Zen person that I am, I know that I cannot be anywhere else but sitting in my puddlejumper, waiting. And then, yesterday, I had a surreal moment when I sort of came to and we were all just whizzing along. At that very moment, a monstrous red bigrig screamed by me in the left hand lane, and I was suddenly aware of how very dangerous this activity is. Remember driver's ed, where they taught us to keep 10 car lengths between our vehicle and others? Not happening out there, folks. And where were all these folks when they taught merging? Sometimes, slow is just as dangerous as fast! So, heads up, guys. Life is not a race. Your day will not be ruined if I get there faster than you do. And, could you all just get out of my way?
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