baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Obviously In the morning, as part of my next assignment, I go for a ride down the beautiful, but deadly Ortega Highway. People are killed on this highway regularly-it's a two lane commuter death trap composite of pavement and metal-complete with a bird's eye view of some of Riverside's and Orange County's most beautiful open space. And, well, I'm worried. I drive a lot-maybe 3 hours a day round trip to and from work. And I see at least one accident a day. Many of these are minor fender benders-and some are deadly. But, still, it always irks me when I see the flash of red brake lights ahead. I worry about being late for work, missing the morning meeting, the gig-all the obligations I'm being kept from because of Southern California's crowded freeways. And then I see the ambulance. And the crumbled metal and plastic of some shiny new SUV or sedan. And a man on a stretcher-the skin on his face stretched into this horrible shape of pain as he was being lifted into the ambulance. People get mangled for their commutes. People die for their commutes. And I wonder if my job, and the money I get once every two weeks, is worth the time away from home-and the gamble I take everytime I travel down the freeway at 70 miles an hour. I wonder even when obviously, it isn't. 9:42 p.m. - 2001-06-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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