I have a long drive to work, twenty-seven miles one way. To further complicate the deal, I also have to go through the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel a wonder of transportation engineering when all is going well. A nightmare, torture device of bottlenecking frustration when things do not go well. This morning's ride was solidly in the later, with a full on two hour interruption due to multiple accidents, breakdowns and general chaos. I dream of the day when I have a shorter commute. I fondly recall my days living in Ireland where I worked at a restaurant about a mile from our cottage on the south edge of Galway Bay. Some nights after finishing my shift and sharing a few pints with my workmates, I'd head out on foot into the still, dark night. The quiet of the midnight road broken only by the occasional passing car, headlights like a roving lighthouse swinging over the horizon and by the gentle, persistent munching cows. Back to the traffic jam and once more, all was still and quiet; an unexpected break in the routine. A chance to think and remember and daydream. There is always a choice.
OK HW
