As anyone who travels Ohio 4 to I-75 and heads south during rush hour knows, somewhere north of the exit, traffic slows to the point that it resembles the digestive tracts of the attendees of a weeklong cheese convention.
Not Gouda – a remark I’m ashamed to make, but clearly not ashamed enough.
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Many are too young to remember that from 1976 to 1987, Edwin C. Moses, the two-time Olympic gold medal winner born in Dayton, won 122 consecutive races over a stretch of nearly 10 years — about how long it feels like I’ve spent waiting in traffic near the road named for him.
I don’t often indulge myself in conspiracy theories. But while going 14 mph on that stretch of highway for the 17th time, I began to believe that traffic engineers involved in the project were trying to honor Moses by ensuring that no car could travel through the area faster than the track superstar could hurdle the distance in his prime.
I’m thinking of writing to Ohio Department of Transportation District 7 offices in Sidney asking that, instead of the usual numbers, speed limit signs in the area show a silhouette of Moses clearing a hurdle.
An alternative would be to show an image of the more widely known Biblical Moses parting the Red Sea – a sign that would have to bear a black circle and a diagonal line through it indicating that, during rush hour, even God couldn’t clear a path through the traffic on this stretch of 75.
That brings us to the day the blockage at Edwin C. Moses caused such intense traffic reflux that I decided to exit the interstate upstream and look for an alternate route.
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Until the moment I took what I now call “the right turn that turned out to be a wrong turn,” my day had been virtually perfect. I don’t remember all the details, but for me a perfect day usually has the following elements:
• A good breakfast of steel-cut oats with raisins and brown sugar — I always try to eat a good breakfast so that my diet is sound the day I get run over by a truck.
• Time spent writing something that makes me feel some sense of accomplishment – On ideal days, I feel as though I contribute enough to society to justify amount of air I breathe, if not the pollution I generate.
• Some contact with family – This is required so that I can sustain the illusion that, my behavior notwithstanding, the people I care for care something for me. Our 4-year-old grandson is my current go-to guy.
• A decent lunch – This is needed for the same reason as the breakfast, though by the time I’ve watched the noon news, my mood has fallen to the point I’m pretty sure the truck is going to get me and all this is a waste of time.
• Exercise – This is for stress relief and the amount of fitness required to propel me into the path of the truck that has my name on it.
Well, had I stayed on I-75, that day, the traffic likely would have deposited me at my exit and forwarded me to my destination in 15 minutes, not bad considering that I had been running 15 minutes early.
Instead, I ended up on an hour-long detour now part of the Donner Party Book of Best Tours. I somehow ended up in Franklin, three exits south of the I-75, I-675 interchange, meaning I had to back backtrack five exits north – further meaning that, on a day I was running 15 minutes early, I arrived 45 minutes late.
I used to curse my stupidity at such moments but stopped doing so when I realized that that foul language doesn’t cure stupid, either.
But here’s the weird thing. After my delay, I arrived at a music studio where I practice with a band – music being another element of what I consider a perfect day – in a strangely calm mood.
And as I reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the room filled with microphones, speakers, stands, instruments and my band member friends, I realized what a truly perfect day.
It’s not a day on which nothing goes wrong.
It’s a day on which everything else goes so right that even an hour-long traffic snafu that might have caused me to jump up on the conspiracy theory wagon and swear off cheese for the rest of my life doesn’t faze me at all.
Yep, for this imperfect person in this imperfect world, that’s a perfect day.
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