The open road, the symbiotic melding of man and machine, and the pinnacle of driving freedom . . . until you come face to face with every free motorist’s nightmare, traffic. No words can describe the feeling that overwhelms you when you’re cruising the 275 at a “reasonable rate of travel”, only to have your spirited driving dreams blown apart, like the time you smashed your sister’s doll house and ruined Barbie’s Honeymoon. Its an uneasy feeling knowing that at one time you were setting a ginger pace at 80mph to the tune of an exhaust note philharmonic, and then like a wet slap in the face, its over leaving you drenched, shocked, and wondering “Why and what did I do to deserve this?” No more engine symphony, no more joy, just full on rush hour stop. Hopefully you packed a snack because you won’t be going anywhere any time too soon.

Its truly remarkable how a major highway becomes a parking lot as wide and vast as the eye can see. Its not like the construction boffins aren’t trying either. “Well we’ll make it wider.” Great! Add another lane, and while you’re at it, line its shoulders with fast food eateries so that when one gets hungry they can simply exit their car, get a bite to eat, and then get back in! Why not? They’re not in a hurry, at least not anymore. Perhaps one day there will be a cure for the motorway common cold known (dis) respectfully as “Rush Hour” Chances are . . . probably not.

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