Road Ways

The evening comes and the race begins like any other. Sarah moves faster than Lisa, and Lisa stares her down as she speeds by. Then, Sarah slams on her brakes so she doesn't run right into Gary, who swerves in front of her to avoid getting rammed by slow Joe, who was carelessly merging his way in with the rest of the runners. Joe is closely followed by Steve, who is riding Joe's ass, flashing his brights, trying to get him the hell out of his way. Betty stays inches from Steve's bumper, furious at him for cutting her off a few minutes earlier. Grandma drives by them all at eighty, honking her horn at anyone that doesn't let her pass. Every car is different yet the same, each containing a different portal to a different life, yet all of them coexisting on the same stretch of highway. Each person, no matter who he's with or what her situation, is stewing in various degrees of road rage. Everyday at five o'clock I sit here and watch them and wait. Wait for my moment.

Remember that George Carlin joke you used to like? How did it go?

"Did you ever notice when you drive, anyone who drives slower than you is an idiot and anyone who drives faster is a maniac?" I say, smiling even though the joke was way passed it's prime according to everyone I tell it to.

That's the one. Well right now you're being a damn idiot.

The problem with waiting for your moment is that sometimes your moment never comes. I put the car in drive and head back towards the station. Maybe it'll happen tomorrow, but right now I'm done for the day. I can only imagine what the guys will say this time, I'm sure it'll be just like what they've said every other time.

Pete, if you don't meet your quota we're gonna have to suspend you.

"Why would you suspend me? I'm a great cop and you know it."

You're a cop that doesn't write tickets. I mean no tickets at all! If you at least wrote one ticket in your life I might be able to let it slide, but you haven't even written one parking ticket, let alone a speeding ticket.

Being suspended is not so bad. I get a little time off to read those books I've always wanted to, or paint a picture, or take a vacation to Miami or something. Maybe go see the Grand Canyon. Arlene won't like it though. If she was mad last time, she'll be furious now. Call me crazy but some part of me would rather have a large confrontation with my wife instead of a minor confrontation with a complete stranger. Especially if it's about something I could care less about. I'm just waiting... waiting for something to happen that is worth confronting someone about; drive-by shooting, a high-speed chase, a fatal hit and run, anything. Anything besides parking and speeding.

Pete, not again.

After getting home, I tell my wife we're going on a road trip and I pack up both our suitcases. I fill up the car with just about everything a person could need on the road. Chips, sodas, sandwiches, cameras, tents, sleeping bags, coolers, warm clothes, cool clothes, everything. My wife just shakes her head, but agrees to get in the car and play along.

"A long stretch of highway is a good place to clear your head."

Not the way you drive. Pete, pull over so I can drive and you can get some rest. We're going to have a long talk after you've taken a nap.

I hate naps. My one memory of preschool was crying every time the teacher wanted us to take a nap. Crying and no sleeping, what a waste of time. It reminds me of things now. Waiting and no action. What a waste of life. Arlene's eyes are on the road and completely focused but I know she must be thinking the same thing. It wouldn't come as a shock if she ever decided to leave me.

Honey, did you see that maniac on the road, he nearly side-wiped me!

"What? No, I was sleeping."

You should do something! He might get someone killed. He looks like he's drunk or on drugs or something.

Arlene followed the driver as close as she could, but he was going way too fast. She was right, he was swerving in and out of lanes, pushing ninety, and ready to get kill anyone that doesn't watch out for him. Arlene tries her best to catch up, but she's losing him.

"Are you going to do something? Call the station, get some back up or something! Do something!"

I call the station but it's busy. I call again and they put me on hold. I give the phone to Arlene and tell her to stay on the line, but as I give it to her the car speeds away out of our view.

Did you get the license plate number, Pete? All I know is that it was a black car, but I don't even know what kind. I told you to write it down.

"I couldn't find a pen. Besides it's not like the guy actually killed anybody, he was just speeding a little."

A little? Have you completely lost your mind?

We come back home tired and without having seen or done anything. I guess my inactiveness finally got to Arlene because she turned around and headed home right after the incident. We were just in time for the eleven o'clock news, but Arlene just went to bed. I stayed up and propped my feet up on the coffee table in front of the TV, determined to enjoy my suspension while it lasted.

In other news, a black sedan was found careening down I-95, causing the fatal accident that took the lives of a family of four. The driver had apparently been drinking heavily and is now in police custody.

Sometimes you wait for your moment so long, that it doesn't come even when it does.