Antique & Classic Cars Blog

Who hasn’t dreamed of taking a handoff or a crisp pass over the middle and darting through a crowd of NFL defenders all the way to the end zone? Probably not Gwyneth Paltrow, but a lot of us have. This would seem to be the dream possessing the Rush-Hour Running Back.

You know the type. It’s rush hour. We’ve lost a major bridge. Traffic is going fast in one place: nowhere. Yet there’s always a couple people stomping the gas and brake, yanking the wheel around, trying to make time when there’s no time to be made. They cut, sprint, brake, gesture–like some precisely orchestrated series of reckless maneuvers is going to get them home ten minutes ahead of their next-door neighbor, two lanes over. Ain’t happening.

If everybody ahead of you is plodding along, then a plodding pace is all traffic will allow. That magic Walter Payton line that dances through the crowd and keeps you moving a lot faster doesn’t exist. Relax. It’s a commute. If you want to run, wait till you’re home, lace-up your shoes, go for a jog. You’ll feel better.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 31st, 2007 at 3:44 pm and is filed under Car stories. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.