My car came to a complete stop in a left turn lane. I sat there for a moment watching the drivers of the cross traffic proceed. Soon in a hypnotic trance, I begin to ponder about some unfinished chores of yesterday and a few problems I need to address today. Then a parade of cars began their left turn from the cross street. I soon found myself studying the drivers faces as they passed. I noticed that they too seemed to be in deep thought as they negotiate their left turn and that left me wondering what was going on in their lives. I am sure that some of the drivers had more pressing problems than I.
A man in his eighties passed and I wonder where he’s coming from __and where is he going. His car is old, but well kept. In a fleeting moment I saw his boney left hand tightly wrapped around the steering wheel; his brown corduroy jacket was zipped up high on his neck, and it seems _his eyes were looking inward as if he was having a silently conversation with himself.
The next car had two young women in it, and the passenger seemed to be laughing at the expense of the driver who was not laughing. Their car radio was booming, and the vibration from the rapper’s music had my skin fluttering like the wings of a new born moth.
Next, was a large black expensive Suburban occupied by a mother and her two children; all were silent as the mother negotiates the turn. Both children seem to be in booster seats and both had flaming red hair. The bright blue eye’s of the child in the back seat, locked on to mine and turn away instantly in fear _as the Suburban sped off down the road.
A horn suddenly blasted out from the impatient driver behind me; I realize that the light had turned green and I accelerated the car into the left turn. I notice (to my left) as I’m negotiate the turn, the driver of the first car waiting to make his left turn is staring at me as I passed. I begin to wonder if he too is studying life as it passed him bye.
The street I turned onto was visually uplifting in spirit, with flowered mediums and autumn colored leaves on trees that line the boulevard; trees that were shedding their golden foliage as gravity proclaims an end to autumn. Leaves spin so ever softly onto the dampened streets that that reflected the distant skies and the straggling puffy clouds that were being pushed along by the upper winds. Winds that left the air with a crisp, fresh, earthy aroma _much like that of growing mushrooms, or fresh cut alfalfa. My mind thinks back on how much my mother wanted to see those autumn colors of Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire, and how much I wanted her to experience that.
Again, I’m suddenly brought back to the moment by a straggly old dog whose one track mind was unaware of the danger he had put himself into as he struggled to cross the boulevard. The drivers in front of me did their best to avoid the aging creature whose only goal was to sniff out his next meal.
With my destination at hand I steered my trusty eighteen year old car off the main boulevard and onto Brentwood Avenue _one more right turn then a left, and I was home.
My bones rattled as I did my best to look somewhat dignified as I struggled to extricate myself from the car. It won’t be too long before they will need the jaws-of-life to extract me from my morning ride.
