I had an amazing drive in to work today. Each morning I drive about 6 miles down a rolling 2 lane divided highway with barely enough room for a compact car to fit between the lines. Passing is not allowed except along a 10 foot section at about mile 4. People tend to drive fast and push the limits on this road, breaking all buffer zone rules. But this morning was different.
As I made my turn onto Idlewild, a guy in a dark blue Acura took the position behind my car. At various times along this 6 mile stretch I timed his following distance. It was 2.5 Mississipppis each time I checked. This man was amazing. I've never felt so comfortable, so close to another man. At about mile three I found myself wishing I knew his name or had some way of letting him know how much I appreciated him. I imagined what his life must be like; his house orderly, his plants healthy, his power tools fully charged, no trip hazards in his garage. By mile five I felt a kinship like no two men have ever felt before, with the possible exception of men in foxholes during WWII, or WWI, or the Falklands Islands conflict back when Reagan was President, if they dug foxholes. I'm not sure if foxholes were needed during that one.
At mile six the drive was over. I took a right, he took a left. And he took my heart with him. I know I'll never feel this way about another driver again. But we had this moment, and I am forever grateful.
As I made my turn onto Idlewild, a guy in a dark blue Acura took the position behind my car. At various times along this 6 mile stretch I timed his following distance. It was 2.5 Mississipppis each time I checked. This man was amazing. I've never felt so comfortable, so close to another man. At about mile three I found myself wishing I knew his name or had some way of letting him know how much I appreciated him. I imagined what his life must be like; his house orderly, his plants healthy, his power tools fully charged, no trip hazards in his garage. By mile five I felt a kinship like no two men have ever felt before, with the possible exception of men in foxholes during WWII, or WWI, or the Falklands Islands conflict back when Reagan was President, if they dug foxholes. I'm not sure if foxholes were needed during that one.
At mile six the drive was over. I took a right, he took a left. And he took my heart with him. I know I'll never feel this way about another driver again. But we had this moment, and I am forever grateful.
2 comments:
He was probably thinking, "I wish this dumbass would speed up."
I was the man in the blue car. And for that mile where there was only one set of tire tracks... I carried you... you know, in my car.
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