Yesterday I worked a bike race at Mt. Tabor. It was rainy, and cold. However, the rain stopped and it warmed up just in time for my drive home. Given the change in surrounding, I thought it might be fun to play around with my GPS. I set the GPS to take me home with the "fastest" route. It had me scheduled to arrive home at 4:26pm, 20 minutes from my departure time. I followed it a little, but then I noticed that it had planned for me to drive on just surface streets. Normally, this is the route that I too would have chosen for myself. However, as I drove past the freeway on ramp I thought, "I wonder what time I would get home by if I took the freeway."
On an impulse, I turned at the very last minute to get onto what looked like a mostly clear freeway. About 60 seconds later... I was at a standstill. Nobody was going anywhere. I imagined (as someone with my facial anatomy would) the freeways were actually the sinus system in some giant's face, and they were clogged. No movement in or out. For what felt like an eternity I sat there and watched the estimated arrival time move further and further away. 4:28pm. 4:29pm. 4:30pm.
Then we began to inch towards freedom. I could see the I-5 & I-84 junction. I knew I was almost there. After a few more minutes, I merged onto I-84, and everything opened up. The estimated arrival time began to drop. 4:29, 4:28, 4:27pm. I thought "I'm gonna do it! Despite all that drama, I might actually beat Gloria the GPS home!"
I thought wrong. Just as the thought occurred to me, I noticed brake lights ahead. I merged right hoping to get off the freeway before the congestion. But, alas, it would not be. We were stuck on the freeway. More stuck than before. Somewhere, in my fantasy world a giant was applying heat packs to his forehead, and attempting to flush out his nasal cavities. Poor guy.
The estimated arrival time crept back up. 4:30pm. 4:32pm. 4:34pm. Bye bye dream.
Gloria Peurterschmidt laughs in my face, "FREEWAY OFF RAMP ON THE RIGHT IN 2.0 MILES!!"
That bitch. It would be 10 minutes before I could even see the off ramp. Minutes went by faster than distances. Five minutes. 1.7 miles to go. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Instead I laughed. Of course this would happen to me.
Eventually we crawled past a pretty bad car accident. I saw the EMTs loading someone's body into the back of an ambulance, and I felt bad for my little game. I looked ahead, the freeway opened back up, and it was time for me to make another choice. Stay on the freeway, get off and use surface streets.
Well as that day's weather systems had indicated, the beauty of sunny skies was not going to last. Open freeways, but a drizzle had started. An ominous feeling washed over me. I'd just passed two different clogged up giant nasal passages, caused by the mythical loogies of car accidents. It's probably best if I get off the free way before the hail came back.
So I did just that.
Is that the end?
Of course not. Have we met?
I exited the freeway, and began actually paying attention to my GPS, which I think is what she wanted all along. I turned off 181st onto Burnside only to discover....
CONSTRUCTION.
Clearly the giant had decided to bite the bullet and get reconstructive surgery. A mystical month's worth of back up was in store. I sat there thinking "just my luck." I turned the radio on, and accepted my fate. The estimated arrival time climbed higher than ever before.
I get it Gloria. By the time I got home it was 5:15pm. Never again will I tempt fate, and race against your vast knowledge of highways, bi-ways and surface streets.
Okay, let's be realistic, I'm probably going to attempt a similar feat sometime in the near future. As you can probably tell, I get bored.
