I'd like a commute like Tim Carter's in Hilton Head. Five minutes to windsurfing by bike.
I hate going windsurfing. I really do.
Don't get me wrong. I love windsurfing. It's the going part that I hate. There are times that I feel like I'm a character in a Greek or Shakespearean tragedy. The fates, mankind and nature all align against me - impeding my progress, throwing road blocks in my way or having me brave evil ogres and dangerous villains. There are days that by the time I get to the lake, I'm so taxed and exhausted that it's almost difficult for me to enjoy my time on the water.
Ideally, I'd enter a tranquil and meditative state while on the road but I'm simply not that strong. While I begin every trip with good intentions, my resolve and strength ebb under the repeated attacks to my psyche and safety. I drive an older, slower car and pull another 1000 lbs of trailer and gear behind me. I can maintain a steady speed but I need space to brake and change lanes; and acceleration up hills is non-existent. Most of the several hundred thousand cars and trucks on the highway with me are respectful, patient and attentive. I tip my hat to all of them.
But, there are malevolent forces that conspire against my happiness. Here are a few from the Rogues' Gallery:
Bayerische Motoren Werke
Let's begin with the easy target: this fine German company makes some of the world's finer cars, without question. But the people who drive BMWs have acquired a reputation and deservedly so. My last encounter with a maniac on I-85 returning from an afternoon session (no, I'm not making this up) was a BMW hurtling through the Peach Pass (Hot) lane under Spaghetti Junction at rush hour probably doing excess of 110 mph. This car wasn't going fast, annoying fast or even asshat fast but carnage fast where you genuinely fear for people's lives.
Does any part of this really surprise you?