Driving to work at 9 AM in Fremont
Driving to Fremont is very different at 8:40 than it is at 7:40, or 9:40.
At 8:40, the three lane highway is bulked-up. The rightmost lane ends at a certain point, and everyone who tried to take the faster route ends up slowing down the whole because they must merge in with the rest of us.
The few who don't play by the rules -- who stay in the dicey lane must then slow down the whole when they reabsorb into the regular flow of traffic.
Driving, we're all alone. Our own space is ours, we listen to our music and we don't have to speak to the others. An occasional glance in the rearview might reveal the face of your fellow commuter, locked inexorable into crawling movement towards the things they must do that day, but for the most part, we're alone.
I'm in an awful mood today. I wonder how much of it is from the drive?
I should start taking the bus again. I miss people and their sideways glances, their sadness and excitement. I miss the bad smells (urine) and the good smells (shampoo). I miss it all.
At 8:40, the three lane highway is bulked-up. The rightmost lane ends at a certain point, and everyone who tried to take the faster route ends up slowing down the whole because they must merge in with the rest of us.
The few who don't play by the rules -- who stay in the dicey lane must then slow down the whole when they reabsorb into the regular flow of traffic.
Driving, we're all alone. Our own space is ours, we listen to our music and we don't have to speak to the others. An occasional glance in the rearview might reveal the face of your fellow commuter, locked inexorable into crawling movement towards the things they must do that day, but for the most part, we're alone.
I'm in an awful mood today. I wonder how much of it is from the drive?
I should start taking the bus again. I miss people and their sideways glances, their sadness and excitement. I miss the bad smells (urine) and the good smells (shampoo). I miss it all.