It’s Wednesday. Mid-week. The proverbial “hump day”. Yesterday was a wintry mix ‘o mess. Being that I had an hour’s commute in good weather, I decided to avail my self of our company’s liberal leave policy and leave work early. Bundled up like a pig in a blanket, I headed out into the wintery wonderland looking foward to getting a jump start on the “evening commute” at 1:00. I was one of only 3 who decided to heed the advice of the “speakers for the weather”. Having looked out the window several times in the morning, they seemed to know what they were talking about.
The Washington, D.C. metro area is like many a major city. No getting around traffic. Luckily, the route I take avoids the Beltway but it’s long just the same. Our office is located on Rt 7. Venturing forth I thought “not bad”. A few miles up the road is Rt 28. OK. “Not bad”. No sooner had I said this when I spotted a vehicle ahead on the left median that apparently did a little loopdy doo. No worries. Just a momentary loss of control. Here…. they’re back on the road.
Driving along, hoping there would never be a time without clear lane markings, I thought what a mess. (No, not this time. This time I wasn’t referring to my life. lol) It struck me that although I haven’t lived in a place with snow and cold and such in over 10 years, I seemed to have adapted rather quickly to the northern climate. Almost as if I had never left. Never lived in a place people flock during the winter months. Body memory? In the bones? I am after all, a native Rhode Islander.
That is why I suppose, when I had a “Christine moment” on the Parkway, I took it in stride…calmly noting that everyone else was either stopped or far enough away. And the intersection was mine. To slide through. Seemingly in slow motion. To the other side. My big ole box of metal refused to stop. Slide baby. Slide.
It was all I could do. But sometimes, that’s all you can do. And that’s alright.