Pete’s phone rang. He pressed the steering wheel button to answer it:
“Where are you?” Sheila asked
“Almost at LAX” Pete groaned
“LAX? You’ve been on the road for an hour and a half already!” said Sheila, stating the painfully obvious
“Mmm hmm!” Pete muttered, “I haven’t been able to get beyond second gear the whole time.” Pete was a fan of stick shifts which were more difficult to find each year. Mazda still made them though and he had been driving a 6 the last few years.
“When does the app say you are going to get home?” Sheila asked.
“Two and a half more hours” groaned Pete.
“Two and a half more hours for 20 miles?” Sheila wailed. “Are in still in second gear?”
“In neutral, at the moment,” Pete said. “Not moving at all. A semi flipped over and three of the 6 lanes are closed. I’ll see you when I see you. I’m not so sure how long I can keep doing this. I’m not sure Joan Didion would write her essay on the LA Freeways as a form of local communion today in these conditions. Hey, I’m back in first gear, that’s something at least.”
“I’m sorry dear” Sheila said “Wine and hugs will be waiting on your arrival. Call any time.” Pete moved into second just before the old Dodge Neon in front of him stopped dead with steam and smoke billowing out of the hood.
Pete put on his left-hand blinker to attempt to merge into the left lane in hopes of dodging the Neon which could possibly turn into the third Car-B-Que of the last 10 miles of what would turn out to be a 4-hour drive to travel 29.1 miles. It was clearly insane. Pete remembered Didion's description of LA Freeway driving as an almost mystical experience and reflected that 1979 when the essay was written, must have been an entirely different experience. Just then Pete was able to shift up into second gear as he saw the offramp for El Segundo in the distance. Maybe he needed to get off of the Freeway and drive home via PCH. He asked Google how long it would take to get to San Pedro on PCH and it was an additional 30 minutes.
Pete sighed, put the car into 3rd gear for the first time, and dreamt of getting out of the car and into bed. A motorcyclist zoomed right by just barely missing his right side mirror, weaving the mystical wave of the six-lane monster known as the 405.
Tomorrow, he would have to get back in the Mazda and do it all again in a communion of craziness.
— DanielSouthGate
“Where are you?” Sheila asked
“Almost at LAX” Pete groaned
“LAX? You’ve been on the road for an hour and a half already!” said Sheila, stating the painfully obvious
“Mmm hmm!” Pete muttered, “I haven’t been able to get beyond second gear the whole time.” Pete was a fan of stick shifts which were more difficult to find each year. Mazda still made them though and he had been driving a 6 the last few years.
“When does the app say you are going to get home?” Sheila asked.
“Two and a half more hours” groaned Pete.
“Two and a half more hours for 20 miles?” Sheila wailed. “Are in still in second gear?”
“In neutral, at the moment,” Pete said. “Not moving at all. A semi flipped over and three of the 6 lanes are closed. I’ll see you when I see you. I’m not so sure how long I can keep doing this. I’m not sure Joan Didion would write her essay on the LA Freeways as a form of local communion today in these conditions. Hey, I’m back in first gear, that’s something at least.”
“I’m sorry dear” Sheila said “Wine and hugs will be waiting on your arrival. Call any time.” Pete moved into second just before the old Dodge Neon in front of him stopped dead with steam and smoke billowing out of the hood.
Pete put on his left-hand blinker to attempt to merge into the left lane in hopes of dodging the Neon which could possibly turn into the third Car-B-Que of the last 10 miles of what would turn out to be a 4-hour drive to travel 29.1 miles. It was clearly insane. Pete remembered Didion's description of LA Freeway driving as an almost mystical experience and reflected that 1979 when the essay was written, must have been an entirely different experience. Just then Pete was able to shift up into second gear as he saw the offramp for El Segundo in the distance. Maybe he needed to get off of the Freeway and drive home via PCH. He asked Google how long it would take to get to San Pedro on PCH and it was an additional 30 minutes.
Pete sighed, put the car into 3rd gear for the first time, and dreamt of getting out of the car and into bed. A motorcyclist zoomed right by just barely missing his right side mirror, weaving the mystical wave of the six-lane monster known as the 405.
Tomorrow, he would have to get back in the Mazda and do it all again in a communion of craziness.
— DanielSouthGate
This is indeed INSANE. I mean, how can we humans have invented this for ourselves? Didion didn't have a cell phone, either. So she was more open to "communion" in a general sense, one supposes. And yeah, traffic must have been flowing for her. I hope YOU didn't have to do this in "real life" more than a few times! But you must have known those who did and do! The descriptions are stellar. ---Macoff
ReplyDeleteWe all do what we have to but WOW! I am so glad I don't have to commute anymore, although my commutes were never that bad. Now, I don't even like to drive 20 minutes to the next small town. Good writing!
ReplyDeleteYou so aptly captured LA traffic. Distances in LA are measured in time, not miles because, well, exactly what you wrote. I need to look up Joan Didion's essay. Even today, you can't get frustrated, you must adopt a more zen go with the flow (or lack thereof). Your writing is always such a pleasure to read. Thank you!
ReplyDeletethis is from lkai
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