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Blog Entry 2 of 10 Thoughts from the Rear

I like any activity that does not require me to wear pants. Outside of the obvious, there are three things in this world I love more than anything - Darth Vader, the complete works of AC/DC, and of course cooking a romantic dinner with my Easy-Bake oven.

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I-25: Chronicles of the every-man commuter

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Contributed by: Ryan Hatch on 10/18/2006

On any given weekday morning or afternoon you'll find me there - sitting, staring mindlessly ahead. At a close look it would seem that I am somewhere else. My blank stare could read as a clean blackboard to my soul... Perhaps I am on a tropical island making love on an exotic beach, flying a glider over the Gobi Desert, or maybe I am reliving my son's birth. In my mind I may be all these places and more, but my body and my reality have me here - in my Honda Civic, stuck on I-25.

I've been driving the long stretch of I-25 from Thornton to Denver and finally to the DTC for the better part of seven years now. I am a veteran of T-REX, a navigator between countless fender benders, the master of the cone zone. I can do it all behind the wheel... When I am not stuffing my face with a Pop-Tart or a Donut Gem, I'm yakking on the phone, or screwing with the radio. All too often the level of my mood is linked directly to the position of the needle on my speedometer.

I am a warrior of the road, a king among commuters. My eyes are acute to all the hazards of the road, for I have seen it all. The accidents... The pile ups, two, three, four, or even six car. I've seen the road kill... The sad tale of a dead raccoon, cat, and occasionally even a dog. I've seen the trash, the litter left or thrown out along the road, all of which must have an unknown story to accompany them. I've seen everything from Big Gulp cups to couches, baseball caps to a pair of men's whitie tighties. They're all there, left by my fellow drivers, reminding us all that we share this road with slobs and sickos.

Everyday I do battle. I do battle with the road-ragers, the tailgaters and the Sunday drivers. I engage in near vehicular intercourse with those who think the left lane is reserved only for them and their SUVs traveling above 90 miles an hour. I have endured the horror of looking into my rearview mirror only to see a grill staring back at me with the letters GMC. For some, the bigger the vehicle, the bigger they must think of themselves... Or for others the realization of how small they are, and the compensation their massive H2 provides. When traffic is moving well, I endure those who will feel like it is never moving well enough. I can be doing eighty (which is actually some major speeding) with a nice comfortable safety buffer between myself and the person in front of me, and yet, I will get tailgated and glared at like I am some Amish person slowing down traffic with my horse and buggy.

I go toe-to-toe, mono-e-mono with the semi truck drivers - the gravel haulers whose signs state that they aren't responsible for cracked or broken windshields. It must be nice to waive all responsibility for your actions by just placing a sign on your back tailgate. I wonder if the same would work for me... I could drive around town with a pickup full of loosely tied down junk, and hey, if my old, used exercise bike falls out onto your hood, I can just point to the sign on my bumper that says: "Stay back thirty feet!" Man, those gravel companies are really on to something with that whole accountability can be trumped with a well placed sign thing.

I've seen all aspects of human behavior... Often at their worst. One day I watched a lady driving behind me in my rear-view mirror scream and yell at some poor SOB on the other end of her cell phone for the better part of forty minutes... Yeah it was a bad traffic jam, but at least I got a show to pass the time. I've seen two twenty-something year-old guys hang out of a passenger side window two cars in front of me trying to pick a fight with a man who looked to be in his sixties. Oh, and yes, I even witnessed a homeless dude take a leak off the side of the Speer St. bridge onto the northbound side of the highway. At least I think he was homeless, might have been a disgruntled Rockies fan, come to think of it. Needless to say, I was glad I didn't own a convertible that day.

You are probably asking yourself right now - why do I do it? You're probably saying hey bud, ever heard of a moving van? Dude, just live closer to your work! Am I glutton for punishment? Do I enjoy the pain of hearing my brakes wear out time and time again as I live in the ever slow going world of stop and go traffic? The answer is of course; I married a woman who works in Longmont. We can't move any further north without making my life completely miserable, and we can't move any further south without making hers the same. So yes, I am stuck with my commute... As well as stuck sitting in the usual slow-down just after the Broadway Bridge, behind some jerk with a bumper sticker telling me I'm going to burn in hell... To bad for him, I've already been there. Aint nothing like the smell of diesel fumes on a July afternoon on I-25.

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Showing 1-3 of 3 comments

Submitted By: Kevin Villegas

posted on 10/19/2006 @ 1:44:13 PM

Rated Blog Entry

Awesome. I love your description of the junk you have seen strewn across lanes of I-25. I like to make up stories for each piece of trash I see. For example, "Tom the Taco Bell Wrapper loved his place in the hand of the driver. But one day, Tom was violently thrown out of the window. Tom was sad."

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Submitted By: Brendan Leonard

posted on 10/19/2006 @ 11:42:34 AM

Rated Blog Entry

You paint a wonderful picture of why I will always love my 2-mile bike commute downtown, even if it's raining and 35 degrees outside.

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Submitted By: Erin Feese

posted on 10/19/2006 @ 9:25:29 AM

Rated Blog Entry

I, too, brave the highways at rush hour. And I agree, it ain't pretty.

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Showing 1-3 of 3 comments

CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Ryan Hatch

Thornton , CO

Ryan Hatch has posted 10 blog entries and 9 comments since joining on 8/3/2006. Ryan Hatch 's average blog rating is 5.

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