Day 13 of 30 Day Writing Challenge: Your commute to and from work/school.
A short roll of the throttle gets you out of the cul-de-sac to the corner. The first right hand turn of the day rolls you right through the Stop sign. You never stop at the sign -no call to, plus it’s horribly inefficient, you just got rolling after all.
A short jog then a Left-and-Right (both turns are other Stop signs to ignore -judiciously!) and you are leaving behind the hive of houses proudly named something fancy to gussy up the ticky-tacky.
The first Stop sign you obey is the gate to the arterial flow of morning rush hour. Find your gap and scoot on in. Up over the bridge then and peeling left into the onramp that has you joining the inferior vena cava that is the 215 Beltway. The lane never quite merges. It becomes the off-ramp for the next exit which is, fortunately, your exit. You don’t get to shuffle and jive with the rest of the freeway commuters. Pity, that.
Shoot across the intersection at the exit and you are on the frontage road that’ll lead to the business park to your office. You are running along side the freeway again, but this time there’s a barrier between you and the pulse of rush hour. Though not nearly as packed, this leg of the trip is less carefree than the flirtation with the freeway rush hour. No, now you get to mess with the build up centered around the elementary school.
The road that leads to the turn in to your office is clogged with cars that move erratically in fits and starts, like a herd of cats each chasing their own individual red dot. It makes ignoring three Stop signs at the beginning of the commute seem downright earnest and thoughtful. That is why you ride right past it to the next block.
That’s where you discover favorite morning ritual: the Riley curve. The road that borders the business park goes from west-east to south-north in a smooth radial sweep of asphalt. A nice little right-hand sweeper where the concrete crawl butts up against tumbleweeds and creosote. As you ride up on it and burn off the speed as you lean into it you think It really is a good morning.
It’d be perfect right-hander if it didn’t have that little hiccup of a rain wash running across the road. With no room to savor the curve as you exit you have to snap upright to attention and reign in all that speed you spooled out so that you can stand in the stirrups and let her ride motocross style over the gutter. Soon enough you are at another Stop that lets you onto the street you avoided to go play for a minute.
In less than 15 seconds you will be rolling into your parking space a little sad that your commute is over.