I Knew Herbert Could Do It

I missed the 9.11 entry because I was working for 15 straight hours, and I fell asleep immediately when I got home. It's the same thing I always do when something might have the off chance of upsetting me. "I'm sorry mind, we can't think about that right now, here's a column of 75 numbers we need to analyize and report the standard deviation to some boss taking home 98% of the profits from your work." My job rocks.

So I almost hate to write about 9.11, because everyone else already did, and apparently there was nothing on that flicking idiot box in my living room but 9.11 coverage, according to that spunky Debbie Mestanopolis on the TV Guide channel. But still, I feel compelled.

I didn't spend yesterday going to vigils or church, watching TV, or thinking about that day a year before. The chaos of that morning at work. I was at work about 10 miles from Manhattan that morning. Even at 10 miles away, it was chaos.

But I wasn't thinking about that morning. I had been reflecting on that day and mourning a loss of innocence for weeks already. Instead, I was thinking about the drivers in NJ, and how for two weeks afterwards they drove with extreme courtesy. No one swore or used bodily appendages to express themselves. No one was speeding or swerving or cutting anyone else off.

It made me horribly sad.

It was only as we began to heal that we started to race to our destinations every morning and evening, wheels screeching and horns blaring. Women and children be damned, it's every driver for himself.

Yesterday, I drove to work pretty early and noticed that traffic had once again been altered. I didn't hear any honking, and I certainly didn't have to slam on my breaks because some SUV decided they wanted to be exactly where I planned to be in 3 milliseconds. But about half-way to work, some family van driving idiot was doing 58 in the left lane, and I passed him on the right doing 65. He sped up to 65 so I couldn't pass. I upped it to 70 and he followed suit. 75, then 80. I got my little electric mobile up to 85 in a 45 mile per hour zone, cut him off in the left lane and felt incredible pride that my earth friendly go cart and I taught that gas guzzler a lesson. The pride faded into the scream I let out when I realized how fast I was approaching a truck in my lane, and I swerved to the right, again cutting off family van man who was attempting a right lane passing maneuver of his own. Aha! I gotcha, you little bastard.

Eventually, he passed me with a honking horn. Then I passed him with a one-fingered salute. He passed, I passed... all the way to work. As I exited the interstate, I raised my hand in appreciation and mouthed "thank you", and I saw him respond with a smile. It was a day when we both needed nothing more than to see someone just being the same person they are every other day of the year.

Thank you, sir. Next time Herbert the electric Honda and I will be ready for you.

Then I flipped him off just once more for good measure.