Momma Mia, Mea Culpa

To My Dear Sweet Highway…The New Jersey Turnpike

I give up. You win. I will never beat you. All I have left to say is, “Uncle.”

I want you to know I have considered moving in order to avoid you all together. But everywhere I go, there you are. Since there is no way for me to steer clear of you, it’s time for us to reach some sort of agreement.

Please stop trying to tempt me into playing that wicked game of forced rapid lane changes. I will lose every time, as you have proven once again. After doing battle with you every day, twice a day, for six years now, you still find ways to outfox me.

I will never figure out how you managed to lure me in yesterday. Maybe it was those fresh painted lines? They cover your cracks so well. I forgot all about your infinite wisdom. You fooled me with those sexy wide-open lanes. You did an excellent job of manipulating me into believing I could trust you that day.

Alas, it was nothing more than your heartless trickery that provided me little to no traffic for a cool 10 miles. I actually had a sense of peace and silence in my head. It reminded me of the early days when we first met. Back when driving on you, complete with my windows down and music playing on my console, was all the glorious sense of freedom I needed.

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

Then WHAM! You Slut.

You hit me. And right where it hurt. With your ever-so conquering: ‘Brick Wall Of Traffic’.

I was too far past my ‘escape exit’ to save myself. 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. You sure are a crafty one.

I must admit it was a well-executed plan.

When you first caught me you held me tight in your grip. And then, you made me pay. To think you betrayed me and snuck behind my back for the feel-good-quickie of a 13 mile back up, a four-car pile-up, with an over-turned dumpster to boot. You may be an old lady, but you’re still a mighty strong mother when you want to be.

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-a-fast-ride-on-the-shoulder-move because you are under construction.

What a surprise. You Whore.

It took 49 minutes to travel 3 miles.

Not. Cool.

As I sat in my car, practically parked, I watched the clock tick slower than on any other day. Time actually stood still. I thought about seeking my own revenge upon you. I tried to figure out ways to break up with you right then and there. I contemplated turning in my EZ-Pass in search of a strictly back road pathway to reach my journey’s end. I pondered all of ways I could cheat on you with the Garden State Parkway. However, your vast body made up of tar and asphalt covers 99.9% of the state.

When it was all said and done, the painstaking crawl, moving inch by inch, every inch that you made me beg for, that’s when you showed me just how tough you really are. After I finally saw those big blinking lights greeting me at the bottom of the exit ramp I realized you have the nerve to charge people 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 to.

It was fun while it lasted, but I surrender.

You have beaten me into submission.

I will not expect to get to work or home on time again.

EVER!