Missing Montana

Turning onto Connecticut’s Merritt Parkway, Route 15, near 10pm on a dark night in the rain, I merged into traffic. To those of you in Montana, traffic is when there are lots of cars on the road, right next to you, in front and behind you. All around you are cars; whether in little groups or the whole highway.
Speeding up to the flow of traffic, late at night on this tight, windy, hilly, under-construction, soaking wet parkway … is about 70m.p.h. Yeah, I guess that’s weird that there are lots of cars going that fast, but… 

Here on the East Coast, drivers are incredibly aggressive. They vie for the tiniest space, most often to no real advantage – other than to exacerbate the stress levels other drivers. Ironically, when you glance over to see who’s being so inconsiderate, it’s likely some retired school teacher-looking person. (Old and bitter? – That would suck~!)

So, I was jammed in there, in aggressive ‘maintain my little space’ mode, in the pouring rain, when I thought of what it’s like driving down a lone Montana highway, with perhaps an occasional passing a car… or maybe not.

Right there in the height of the battle for a lane, a feeling of peace came over me with the perspective of knowing an alternative to this East Coast way of life.


When I get to Montana it takes me about 3 days to slow down. When I get to Connecticut it takes about 3 days to speed up. People live all over the world in so many different ways. Nature is aggressive enough.

On my morning commute to work, when folks are really jamming it down the road, I often wonder if their job is really that awesome.

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