Of my drive home?
That’s right. My drive home. She who hates to drive, actually loves her drive home to pieces. She would love her drive to work, but it is far too early in the morning to love anything except coffee. Which I have also started to love. Things are changing people. Big things. I love driving and coffee now. What is next? I do not know.
I will say, my drive to work, is pretty with the sun rising.
Anyway, so my drive home is semi-peaceful. If there is traffic, it is anything but peaceful. But usually the traffic pretty much subsides at the beginning so I do get to enjoy at least 1/2 of my hour drive home in open-road-glory. However, most days it is relatively traffic free. There are cars, but we are moving not sitting. Which is wonderful. Plus, I leave work now at 4 instead of 5 and that makes the world of difference. But my drive home, over the mountain, is so pretty. And on days that it is not like a thousand degrees outside I open the window, turn up the radio, and sing my little heart out.
But my favorite part? Is the driving down the mountain. Actually, the coasting down the mountain. Taking my foot off the gas and going with the flow. The flow of the mountain. At a safe speed. I don’t want to die or anything. But it curves, and bends, and stretches on in this awesome free falling way. And I drive. And I sing. And I enjoy every second of it.
My drive home, is also pretty. Though this is not the greatest picture because it was a little overcast, but it is still pretty.
What I do not love?
Is when I get stuck behind some retard that does not know that you can coast down the mountain and instead they ride their brake down the mountain. And instead of being able to get away from stupid braker, I am stuck, behind them. Not coasting down the mountain. Not loving it at all. All sad and un-decompressed. But at my first chance? I’m getting the hell away from Mr. Brake’s a Lot and resuming my decompressing drive home.