Commuting is interesting. For many years, I worked within a few miles of home. For the past year and a half, I've been commuting 22 miles each way. I know - many people do way more than that and I have no right to complain. I do love my job now, which makes it worthwhile.
Within the past two months, I have seen parts of the county I didn't know existed. Detours started with Hurricane Irene and continued with the October snowstorm. Dodging trees, power lines, road crews, joggers (??), and the usual array of suicidal wildlife became the norm.
I have a three minute window of opportunity to leave in the morning before all traffic hell breaks loose.
New this month is a line of dump trucks that all want to be first in line when the sandpit opens. They will cut you off as if their lives depend upon it, to then pull over to the shoulder to wait for admittance. Why are the dump trucks behind me always in a huge hurry, flashing their lights, cursing at me as I round a dark bend? The same truck will pass me and suddenly become Mr. Law and Order driving below the speed limit. And, I must point out, we all end up stopped at the same red light at the same time.
Most truck drivers are probably decent people; some are really scary.
And when I am within my window of opportunity and leave on time, it really annoys me when anything slows me down. Like the loose horse on the highway yesterday, with the poor woman trying to catch him. I felt so sorry for her; but no one got hurt and the horse was led back with a bucket of food (I relate!). That's something that I understand; Bubba in a hurry and tailgating I do not understand. Back off Bubba.
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