Scrambling cars zip over and under, finding their winding path from Canada to Mexico. I am The Highway. I am engineered to withstand rain, snow, sunshine and you, and I never see a dime of your taxes. And I see the changing seasons, growing trees, birth and death. I live and breathe and do nothing all day and night to make sure that you get where you are going. I know what it’s like to live.
It’s wet, and it’s cold, and yet you keep driving. I wonder if you are going someplace warm. The trees are all changing, and the horizon looks like a glorious bouquet of burning leaves. Commuters zip back and fourth- Salem to Portland, Portland to Salem. Yakking on cell phones- texting a friend. I see the crashes, and I hope and pray for every car I embrace in my wide-open arms that you get where you are going. I know what it’s like to live.
It’s dry, and it’s warm, and the rain will be coming soon. But the hills are still burnt from the blazing sun and wild fires. This part of my road is a sad and barren place, stretching from the north end of California to the south end of Oregon. There aren’t any sheep, no cows or farms to be seen. There are only hills of nutrient deficient soil. A few birds might give me something to watch, however those bright blue skies haven’t seen the birds in a while- they haven’t started migrating yet. You might even be something interesting to watch if you weren’t a snoozing little kitty in this relentless, natural, basking sun. I may be as bored out of my mind as you are, but I’m here, doing my job to get you where you are going. I know what it’s like to live.
It’s smoggy, and it’s hot, and people are always moving a million miles a minute. On a good day, you can see the hills, but it’s incredibly difficult to see them today. There are business people, families, and movie stars zipping around L.A. They hop on for a few miles, headed to Anaheim, Beverly Hills, or Hollywood. The children bounce in the back of those mini vans from out of town; they are going to see Mickey today, you know. High-powered executives, who needed whatever they were given today done yesterday, are impatiently, aggressively, audibly passing my other passengers like they own the place. There are plenty of things to see when you slow down a bit, but I know that you won’t, for you need to get where you are going. At least I know what it’s like to live.
It’s breezy, and it’s warm, and there are plenty of people out enjoying the natural wonders of the beach. The hills and the water sparkle in contrasting greens and blues, respectively. The paths around the home of Shamu seem to be crawling with people who just want to go out and get a good jog, roller blade race, or bike ride in. I sit, and I watch, and I hope that the hundreds of pounds of power cords don’t fall down on my precious cargo. The Seals are “storming the beach”. But you mustn’t worry about them; the Navy knows what it is doing, and will keep you safe. They are getting to where they are going, and so are you. And I know what it’s like to live.
It’s foggy, and it’s chilly, and there are boats in the bay if you look hard enough. The bridges and the islands are all visible from here, and I can see that you admire them. And what isn’t there to admire when you know that thousands of tons of metal stay perfectly in sync, withstanding huge ocean gusts, the frequent earthquakes of San Francisco, and the metal decaying sea air. On the shining hills to the east, I praise the “green thinkers” who have constructed the hundreds of windmills. Energy in its purest form; that’s what will get you where you are going. See, you are learning what it’s like to live.
It’s dark, and it’s hard, and you will never be anywhere without it. I am The Highway, and I see everything. I appreciate the natural, honest, brutal changes that are displayed before me. And I wonder if I will ever be the headline of the local papers for something that is good. I see the death of young, stupid, innocent adolescents, and I hope that they didn’t die in vain. I hope that they got to where they are going. But the most that I ever hope for is that they truly learned what it’s like to live.
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