I moved 1600 miles from L.A. to get away from traffic, and I recently began to miss the 405 at dawn! I didn't think that was possible!
I have a thirteen-mile drive to work, the first block and last mile of which are on surface roads. The rest are on Missouri highways and the one small stretch they call a freeway. The speed limit is 60 but commuters don't go under 70, except when there is a red light.
Some mornings we are bunched together like we're on the track at Bristol, although we're only doing 70. It never fails, though, that two idiots will come weaving through like they think they have a faster car or truck! Where are they gonna go? We'll all end up bunched back together at the next signal, anyway!
Then we hit the freeway stretch and everyone slows to 60, except those two guys. The guy in front of me thinks his brake pedal is a percussion instrument. I'm never sure which taps are because of the traffic in front of him and which are for rhythm.
If I leave 5 minutes too late, traffic on my exit will be backed up. I swear there are only about 150,000 people here in Springfield; what are they all doing on my offramp? There are three colleges up the road from my work - do all morning classes start at 8:05? Because that's what time I end up arriving if I get stuck behind these guys!
I miss real traffic jams. You knew that traffic would slow as you approached Burbank Blvd., and not get moving again until somewhere after my exit. You'd see the same people in the lanes around you as you met up in traffic every day. There's Bagel Girl, and Cordless Shaver Guy. Oh, and the Girl That Puts On her Mascara as we stop at the 101.
You also knew that if traffic slowed anywhere other than the usual spots, there'd be no trace of an accident when you got there. And if Skylord in the traffic copter warned you about a jam, it'd be gone by the time you got there.
The good old days...when it took sixty minutes to drive a thirty-mile commute.
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