i kinda hate driving, actually

You know what’s ironic about my extreme commuting? I kinda really hate driving.

Any chance I get, I toss the keys to the Honda to SYB and make him cart my lazy butt around. I didn’t even get my license until I was 17 (almost 18), when everyone else was getting theirs at 16. I wasn’t anxious to drive. I had two friends with cars - one with a hand-me-down Corolla and the other with a swwwwweet Volvo DL manufactured well before my conception – and they didn’t seem to mind my ride-mooching. Plus, there really wasn’t a chance in hell that I was gonna pass the driver’s exam if my choices were limited to parallel parking either my dad’s Explorer or the beached-whale of a road-yacht that my mom drove around back then.


I probably would have never even bought my own car had it not been for the fact that I was living in Pittsburgh and SYB lived in Jersey, and Greyhound smelled like dirty, calloused, hippie feet mixed with mildew and liverwurst. (Clearly, I had no choice but to purchase my independence.)

Oh, the power of young love and large doses of Sportscenter and snuggling down the shore…

Anyway, I would give just about anything to not have to drive so much now. Walking to work would be swell, but that would limit me to a less than lucrative bakery or liquor store career. While an employee discount would be AWESOME…I just dunno if that’s for me…

So I guess driving it is…for now…unless the pastry bizz really takes off. And if that ever happens, then EZPass should prepare itself for a strong downturn in revenue. Cuz when it’s time to make the donuts, I’ll be there. Not on the parkway. And you can count on that.

hugs and kisses

My Dearest EZPass,

I know that this relationship is new to both of us and we're both still very excited, but I am concerned that perhaps we're moving too fast.

I know this may hurt you, but I'm trying to be the responsible one here and pump my brakes a little bit. It's just so hard to slow it down when you encourage me to continue on full speed ahead.

You and the extra fifteen minutes of my day that you've given back to me really do mean the world. I don't want to ever have to let you go because of this foolishness. Please, if you can, try to understand.

XOXOXO,

me

dear john

Dear Toll Guy Who Takes My Dollar Every Morning in Asbury Park,

I realized this morning that you recognize me.

I thought our brief, but cordial exchanges were fairly standard in the toll-taking world. There’s the “Good morning,” the “Thanks for costing me that bag of Cheetos that – had I not just given you one of my last dollar bills - I would have purchased from the vending machine when the 3 p.m. munchies strike,” and of course the parting “Have a nice day.”

I drive a nondescript car, sip coffee from a nondescript thermos, listen to nondescript radio programs (other than the Mexican-Polka of course), and am generally, nondescript. You probably see hundreds of me a week, maybe even in a day; so how could it be that you recognize me specifically? Why is it that your “How are you this morning” emphasizes the you in just a way that it seems you really know me? Do you gaze longingly at my strange still-out-of-state plates and slightly dented bumper long after I’ve been digitally thanked for forking up and pull away from your lane? Are you eyeing up the junk in my trunk?

Alas, Toll Guy, it will never work out for us in this crazy, crazy world. I…I have Super Yummy Boyfriend…and you…well, you’d never understand my fear of small spaces and anxiety over making change under pressure. Clearly, I’ve let this go on for too long. It’s time for me to be moving on. It may hurt for a while…when I speed past through the EZPass lanes; but this is our future, Toll Guy, we’re both just going to have to accept it.

I'm sorry if I've misled you. I only meant to pay my way.

I’ll keep the shiny dollar coin you gave me (cuz the vending machine won't take it). And we’ll always have that day when the backup made me linger.

Sincerely,

me

much anticipated tolling update

For those of you who have been following the vacillation of my decision to EZPass or not to EZPass, I thought I’d provide you with a tolling update so you can relax into your weekend without the anxiousness of not knowing which lane I’ll be taking on Monday. (I know you were starting to sweat it.)

So here it is…

I’m still carrying around enough dollar bills and quarters to be mistaken for a college-town stripper moonlighting at Chuck E. Cheese. And that’s the situation.

doughy inside with a crisp outer crust

Perhaps it’s because it is Friday, or perhaps it’s because I had an incredible apple cinnamon bagel with my coffee this morning, but I’m in a good mood. I even managed to maintain my good mood for the entirety of my 94 mile morning commute. I know that you must be incredibly disappointed that my pH is so balanced, but have no fear – I’m sure that next week’s entries will be acidic enough for a Pepcid.

In the meantime, I thought I’d update you on the status of my tolling: I haven’t yet procured that EZpass. Besides my tendency to procrastinate on all things that require research, I actually enjoy the sound of the clink, clink, clink of exact change hitting the basin. It’s strangely gratifying, not unlike those fabulous Wheel of Fortune quarter slot machines. SPIN! “BIG MONEY, BIG MONEY, BIG MONEY!” I know I’m spending money. I know I’m not really gonna get anything back for it in the long run (though the parkway feigns improvements). But it’s something to occupy my time; and just like gambling, queuing up to pay a toll can be just entertaining enough to throw a few quarters at it.

This morning, for example, as I sympathetically decelerated by those waiting in the “I-don’t-have-EZpass-or-exact-change-and-I-am-basically-completely-unprepared-to-be-commuting” Cash lane, I witnessed a driver neglecting to maintain the customary toll lane distance of 1 foot from the car in front of him as he dug up his bills. Meanwhile, no less than FIVE cars pulled in to the lane in front of him. Now, had he been the last car in the lane, I wouldn’t have found this as entertaining; however, this guy:


was behind him, waving his New York turning signal with pride. I feel for you, buddy, I do. Have a bagel.