Luze zein shah! (Shush already!) Therapy in session…
I don’t know about you dear therapists, but driving around here has become outright mishegas (craziness). The people on the roads have taken a test, somehow passed and received a license to drive a vehicle! Oy vey (WTF)!
My morning drive is admittedly, one of the most beautiful in the entire world. A stunning commute filled with a bunch of mushuggenehs (crazies). It’s seven hellish miles. Magnificent zigzagging, tree-lined, pothole riddled roads that surround the waters of the Wissahickon and historic sites of age-old Philadelphia. After a dangerous merge, I head to another spectacular, snaky, curvaceous course that harkens back to the grandeur and prestige of a Thomas Eakins oil painting. Eakins, from the late 1870’s, devoted many years of his life creating oil paintings of the stuff I see every day — scullers and rowers on the Schuylkill River. Add runners, joggers, walkers and schvitzers (sweaty people) with their dogs, horses, and babies… Looking at the action alone could kill you.
On the journey that is my drive, fellow travelers multitask to a fault. Distracted, that would be a nice way to put it! They are talking, teleconferencing, texting, speeding, shaving, putting on eye-liner, singing to Adele, tying ties, fixing hair, checking for ‘bears in the cave,’ getting pissed at traffic, and screaming at talk radio hosts. All the while, the GPS is barking directions and ways to evoke more expeditious expeditions while Siri is chatting up local latte locations. Those with little people are either begging for silence so they can masterfully do all of the above while driving, or passing der kinder (the kids) a nice nosh (a little something to eat) and drink to quell the clamor. Cheerios flying, sippy-cups seeping while said kinder (children) are squirming in the car seats they will be trapped in until they are dropped at the university dormitory.
Traffic, gawking, gaper-delays all add to the madness. I see too many accidents each day as part of my pillar to post routine. It’s frightening. When I don’t see the actual smash-up, I see the car remnants, the rubber tread marks on the road, the broken glass, the bits and chunks of bent metal objects. It’s a shonda (shame).
I absolutely do not text and drive (any more). I often talk; always hands-free. I’ll never switch to an incoming call while on the phone unless I am at a red light and it is really important. I listen to NPR. I sometimes cry in the car. I go the speed limit, prompting many evil looks and ugly hand gestures. And I watch closely, because it is terrifying out there.
Do you remember etiquette on the road? Be a mensch (good person) already and let someone in your lane or out of a parking lot. Pay if forward, will you please? Wave and nod as a thank you. It won’t kill you. Maybe smile a little…it’s contagious you know. It’s really not such a kockamayme (ridiculous) idea to show some politeness.
Well that’s my kvetching (ranting) today. Drive nicely people. It’s a mitzvah (good thing) to arrive alive each direction.
Gay ga zinta hate (go in good health).
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