2 posts tagged “commute”

Even though it adds at least 45 minutes to my commute, I love taking my kids to school. Yes, they're always late. Yes, there is lots of drill-sargent shouting to "hurry up and GET DRESSED." Yes there are often tears as we all stress over what shoes to wear. But fundamentally I love the quality time in the car when we talk, sing or just hang out together.

For the last two weeks we've been listening to Justin Timberlake's CD and we know many of the lyrics to Summer Love ("I can't wait to fall in luuuuuuuv...with you. You can't wait to fall in luuuuuuuv with me. This just can't be summer luuuuuuuv, you'll see...")

But today I declined the JT requests in favor of good old fashioned radio. To make it seriously old fashioned I put on KFOG (classic rock) - just in time to hear the opening strains of Marc Cohn's Walking in Memphis. I really love this song. I have such a vivid memory of listening to it, driving down the streets of Paris, thinking how wonderfully strange it was to hear this kind of song on Paris radio. I never can predict what the French are going to like and that's one of the things I like about them.

Anyway, hearing it this morning put me in a great mood and I started to sing along with it. My kids are used to this and were nice enough not to make fun of me until...

Cassandre: "What did you say?"
Me: "What?"
Cassandre "What did you just sing?"
Me: "Walking in Memphis"

And just as I'm about to explain how the song is really about how certain places can make you happy, and how just walking down the street ("with my feet 10 feet off of Beale") can make you feel special and at home, she says (with relief) "Oh, I thought you said "Walking in Breakfast."

Nevermind.

Cue lots of giggling.

Here's how it works:

He goes in front of you.

Then you go in front of her.

The Jetta goes next.

Then I go.

Ad infinitum.

This activity is called merging. You may remember a similar activity from kindergarten called taking turns.

So when you, Mr. I'm-a-very-busy-man-in-a-big-expensive-car, made such a big point about not letting the Camry go in front of you, you interfered with the natural order of things. Your refusal to merge was akin to tripping the first domino. The rest of the dominos (the line of cars behind you) quickly decided the Camry was weak and didn't let him in either. Car after car passed as he blocked the lane, creeping forward with his turn signal on, hopeful of mercy.

But this is Highway 101 and there is no mercy here.

The rest of us poor suckers who are queued up behind the Camry, now AKA Mr. Yellow Belly, are trapped and motionless (unless you count hand gestures). This is not good. This is where road rage starts. It starts where most good bouts of rage do, with injustice.

Car after car passes and our lane doesn't move. Something must be done. Everyone in my lane starts turning their heads to the left, looking for an opportunity to escape. The act is risky. Pack mentality has turned the other lane into a defensive line, and we have become the invaders. They have to keep us out. We have to force openings big enough to merge while not running into Mr. Yellow Belly.

The Jetta in front of me jumps suddenly into traffic and the element of surprise works: she's in. I wait for the next car to pass, then insist on my place in the merge.

Hit me, I dare you. I double dog dare you.

Success. The rest of the cars behind me resume their acts of taking turns while Mr. Yellow Belly watches. Eventually someone takes pity on him and lets him in.

Order is restored to the universe.