I have a 47 mile, 50-minute commute each way, which I've found amazingly pleasant. By the time I get to work I'm wide awake and by the time I get home, any stresses are miles behind me. I use my commute time for prayer and I listen to music, audio books, and podcasts. I used to regularly listen to talk radio, too; until the 2016 Election Cycle, that is!
My route is primarily on interstate highways and the roads are generally clear, harsh winter weather notwithstanding. My daily journey is scenic, taking me over Chautauqua Lake, and most days I drive towards the sunrise and sunset.
But...each year there has been an "incident" that gave me cause to be alert, intensified my prayers, and made me humble. On this work anniversary, I take this time to recall these "events".
Year One - The fuel gauge on my car was malfunctioning so I had to keep close watch on the odometer to judge when I needed to fill my tank. One morning I had time to either gas up or grab a doughnut. I looked at the mileage reading and figured I had enough fuel to get to work but would need to refuel on the ride home. I bought the doughnut (Mighty Fine Angel Cream, if you were wondering). Two blocks from work my car died. This was one of those
Year Two - As I mentioned, the roads are generally clear. My issues are very rarely with winter road conditions. Visibility is another story! One February evening, I hadn't been paying attention to the weather and even worked over, so I got a late start home and not a minute of my ride was in daylight. Not that it would have helped, since it was blizzard conditions. My normal 50-minute commute took 150 minutes. A portion of the interstate was closed and the detour took me to an unfamiliar country road. It was a downhill route and I felt I was driving in to a dark tube with no end. Slippery roads and white outs had me moving at 5 mph for much of the drive which caused snow and ice to build up on my windshield wipers, rendering them useless. At one point I became keenly aware of my isolation, no lights in front of me, no lights behind me. I pulled over under an overpass and called my brother who was about 35 miles away. He kindly listened to me but gently told me "Barb, I can't come get you". "I know! I just needed to hear another voice!" I cried. I hung up, put the car in gear, and slowly pulled out to continue my journey home. About 6 miles from home, I was able to get off the highway and get on familiar roads. However, I wound up stopped in traffic on a hill. I had come to a complete stop (really) when I felt my car start to slide. I desperately pumped the brakes but didn't stop until I bumped in to the WalMart semi in front of me, cracking my bumper cover. A bright spot to all this was that my boss texted me to make sure I'd gotten home safely. I told you, they treat me well there!
Year Three - Do you remember that WKRP in Cincinnati episode "With God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly."? Well, turkeys CAN fly. Not very high, but they can fly. They can fly about the height of the windshield of a Ford Escape. The turkey hit my driver side windshield, shattering it. I want it on record that the turkey hit ME, I did not hit it. He misjudged his takeoff and flew in to me as I was driving my. I was about 40 miles from home and (stupidly, I admit) tried to drive the rest of the way by leaning over to look out the passenger side windshield to navigate my way home. That lasted about a mile before I realized the futility, pulled over and called some friends who lived not too far. They came to my rescue, waited while the tow truck carted away my vehicle, fed me dinner, and loaned me a car to get home. It's not just my employer who treats me well.
Year Four - I travel 47 miles to work each day. My boss travels about 30 miles, much of it the same route I take. On my way to work one day I noticed a State Police vehicle, lights flashing, had pulled over a vehicle that looked a lot like my boss's car. I laughed and thought of ways I'd tease him when I got to work. As I passed the vehicles I also noticed a couple of dead deer and felt sorry for the poor driver. And the poor deer. As I walked to my office I looked in to my boss's office and saw he was not there yet. He could have been in a meeting, he could have had the day off. I figured I'd razz him later. About 8:30 I heard him talking to someone outside my office. "No, the air bag didn't deploy" I heard him say. Air bag!!! I hurried to the hall and said "Was that you????" "Yeah, I saw you drive by." Yes, folks I drove by my boss as he was stranded on the side of the road after hitting deer. And it wasn't a couple of deer, but THREE deer he'd hit. I have job security just so he can hold this event over my head until the day I retire.
Year Five - Road crews still kept the highways clear, but there was still nothing to be done about that darned visibility. On my way to work my wipers once again iced over and I couldn't see. I needed to pull over to clear them but to do so on the interstate was too dangerous so I decided to pull off at the next exit to find a safe place. Only I couldn't see the exit. I traveled to the next exit, and missed that one, too. The third exit was the charm. The blowing snow calmed down just long enough for me to see the exit and I was able to get off the highway. The road was still busy, though so I pulled over as far as I could to a place where I could safely exit the car and clean off the wipers. I pulled over too far, got caught in a couple of ruts that pulled me right in to a large, deep ditch. How deep? The snow came up to the hood of my SUV. From my vehicle I called AAA and ninety minutes later they showed up to tow me out. I texted work to tell them I would not be in. In six years I've only missed two days due to snow, though I probably should have missed a few more.
Year Six - I hit a deer. I cried. I didn't cry for the turkey. HE had it coming. But the poor deer...
And so I'm entering Year Seven. In Leviticus it describes the Year of Jubilee, seven cycles of seven Sabbaths. I don't know where in the cycle we are officially but I'm hoping that this next year is the right seventh year and I get a year off. My insurance company and the wildlife of Chautauqua County are hoping this, as well.
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