Momma Mia, Mea Culpa

To My Dear Sweet Highway,

I give up. You win. I will never beat you. I get it. You kicked my ass.

I’ve considered moving, in order to avoid you all together. But everywhere I go, there you are. Please stop trying to tempt me into playing that wicked game of team switching and forced rapid lane changes. I will loose every time, as you have proven once again.

After doing battle driving on you every day, twice a day, for five years now, you still manage to surprise me.

I will never figure out how you lured me in yesterday. Maybe it was those fresh painted lines? They cover your cracks so well, I forgot all about your infinite wisdom. You really had me going there for a while. You fooled me, but good, with those sexy wide-open lanes. It was nothing more than pure trickery when there appeared to be little to no traffic for a cool 10 miles. I had one gleaming moment of peace and silence in my head. I almost didn’t notice the chemical plants that stand roadside one after the other emitting carcinogenic fumes into our air, ruining the environment.

For a moment, dare I say, it was nice?

Then WHAM! You slut! You nailed me. And right where it hurt. I was too far past my escape exit, yet too close to my own exit. You must have noticed I’ve been using that secret alternate route. You must have been planning this for weeks, watching my every move, plotting for the perfect time to unleash your revenge. Damn you crafty one.

It was a well executed plan. First you caught me…you held me tight in your grip. Then, you made me pay. You had me trapped in the middle of a 13 mile back up, 4 car pile-up, and an over-turned dumpster to boot. You may be an old lady, but you are still a mighty strong bitch when you want to be.

As I sat still, practically parked, I watched the clock ticked slower than on any other day. Time actually stood still. There was no hope to be had. I was stuck in that mess for the long haul. I couldn’t even make my famous take-the-shoulder-move because you are under construction, what a surprise, you whore.

It took 49 minutes to travel 3 miles.

Fuck. You.

When it was all said and done, the painstaking crawl, moving inch by inch, each inch that you made me beg for, that’s when you showed me just how big your balls are.

You have the nerve to charge me money at the tolls? Instead, you should be serving hard liquor or handing out free prizes to those of us who actually made it to our destination exit.

Alas, I can’t play with you anymore, not like I used too. Not now, that I’ve reduced the points on my driver’s license from 21 down to 7. It was fun while it lasted.

I surrender.

You have beaten me into submission.

I will never expect to get to work or home on time ever again.

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