Traffic

On the interstate right near my work, on the path home, there is an S-curve. I merge onto the highway just before the S-curve, on a very short ramp that leaves maybe 100 yards to squeeze between two cars — two seconds in driving time — just as the road enters the first curve. On a busy day, it’s a tight fit. I’ve come close to being forced onto the shoulder a few times, which is a difficulty because, at the S-curve, the shoulder isn’t wide enough for a car to drive on.

Wedging in is not a matter of skill but a matter of nerve — 100% nerve. To merge, you adjust your speed to match the flow of cars and act as if nothing more is at stake than on a quiet bike ride in the park. It is the best way to perform, as if nothing is at stake. The less you think about a life-threatening situation, the better.

I once dreamed that I was driving on that same interstate, heading north. The cars were moving fast, bumper to bumper, no room to change lanes. I am in the middle lane of three. My usual exit nears, but there is no getting off, no way to fit myself between the cars traveling in the exit lane. Nerve, this time, does not pay, because there is no opportunity even for the brazen. I pass my exit, then another, then another. No one gets off, no one changes lanes, and we all drive on, northward, prisoners of each other.

I wonder where they are all going. I wonder why, when all I want to do is get home from work, there are thousands of people going the same way. Why I am swept up into their current. I am concerned but not alarmed, knowing I am safe where I am, safe as long as I consent to go along with the flow.

And I wonder as I struggle with traffic that prevents me from getting home, why, when we all share a direction in common, when I finally get home, I will find myself alone.