Route 100 - A Commuter's Battleground

Last week, I approached the ramp to route 100 as I headed toward Pasadena. It was a beautiful day with low humidity so I casually rolled down my driver's side window to get some fresh air. As I gradually picked up speed in the right lane, I saw what appeared to be a smoky haze about a quarter mile in front of me. It didn't take long to realize that it was actually road dust being kicked up by the traffic ahead.

I had just ran my car through the car-wash and it was still wet in some places. Traveling through the dust cloud quickly turned my car's exterior from a shiny luster to a depressing gray film. Before long, it looked like I had just taken 2nd Place in a four-wheeling competition. But knowing that this was just one of the occasional drawbacks of commuting, I let it go.

But what came next was not so easy to ignore....

As luck would have it, there was a large pick-up truck directly in  front of me. The double-tires of the truck began to kick up gravel and hurl it violently at the traffic behind. As the projectiles ricocheted off of my hood and windshield, I looked for an opportunity to switch lanes. But there was nowhere to go. I caught a quick glimpse of the driver beside me, He had a firm two-handed grip on the steering wheel as his head bobbed to the left and right. The poor guy looked like Rocky Balboa ducking a punch from Mister T. And although I did feel a bit of sympathy for him, I had my own issues to deal with.

With the road being torn up, it was like driving on an extended rumble strip. So, I decided to turn up the radio to drown out some of the noise. "Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones happened to be playing. Really? The Stones? Right now? Come on....

As the truck in front of us accelerated, the frequency of road shrapnel increased. Pieces of route 100 rained down on us like a summer hail storm. Rocks were coming from all directions. My poor Honda was taking on more abuse than a Baltimore City police cruiser!

Out of nowhere, my elbow, which had been hanging vulnerably outside the window, was met by an oncoming rock. Grimacing, I took the pain like a man. I slowly retracted my stinging arm and rolled up the window. Although I wasn't out of danger quite yet, I did feel a little safer.

Thankfully, the scarred battlefield soon gave way to a freshly paved surface. I eventually exited the expressway and pulled into the safety of a parking lot where I was able to survey the damage. Miraculously, I came out of the onslaught relatively unscathed. My battle wounds were limited to a couple of small nicks in the windshield and a small red welt on my left elbow. I had survived. But how many commuters wouldn't be so lucky?

kw