I had a meeting in Waterloo earlier today. That meant making the hour and a half trek out west. The ride went relatively well. Because it’s a Friday, traffic was predictably bad in the city. Once I was far enough west though I managed to maintain a steady 120 all the way there.
The meeting was productive enough. Much of it involved a bouncing squirrel.
Driving home was much the same as the trip in, except that time I had company on the way back to Toronto.
When I got home, there were plans to head out to a restaurant for dinner. Somehow I was appointed the driver for the outing. I was whining and complaining about having to drive again. I was exhausted, man. I was not in the mood to drive. I eventually gave in, but not before bitching a lot more.
One of my aunts from New York is constantly surprised whenever I bitch about driving. She always says, “Man, what is wrong with you? I always love driving! I get a high from it! I just don’t understand.” It’s true. I sort of treat driving like a chore. I need to do it to get from point A to point B. My mom noticed that too. She stated to my aunt, “Yeah, he’ll complain like that, but in the end he’ll drive.”
I’m that predictable, apparently.
I only drove for 3 to 4 hours. It’s not that long. In fact, my aunts drove in from New York City. That’s a 12-hour drive. I don’t know how she manages to do that. I realize that she takes breaks at rest stops along the way, but still, that’s a bloody long journey. Thinking about what she goes through makes me feel kind of silly. I mean, considering that she’s much older than I am, I probably shouldn’t be feeling so rotten after such a drive.
Maybe if I just drive a lot more I’ll adapt to it all. It’s been 6 to 7 years since I’ve started driving. It’s mostly been city driving. I need to get out more. I need a change of attitude.
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