The boy’s high school is located four miles from our home and can be reached by many different routes. When the subject of the best possible route came up, I believed, having been a student there some 30ish years prior; had the best route. My husband, who drove a truck for work most of his adult life, felt he knew the best route too. Of course they were different. So we put the different routes to the test, not necessarily for the boys sake or to save gas per say, but more so for the satisfaction which comes from proving your spouse wrong.
“Mama, you need to take me back to school” the boy announced “I forgot a book I need for homework”. Clearly disgruntled, the thought of driving back to school on the fringe of rush hour traffic, was not high atop of my to do list. Regardless, we hopped into my car and left. Finding traffic backed up on our usual route, I decided this would be a good time to try one of the hubby’s alternative ones. As a result, we hit every red light imaginable. Our usual seven minute car rider to the school turned into a twenty minute one. “Mama, don’t get mad, but please don’t ever take this route again.” The boy expressed, smiling as he shouted “Berdan Mama, Berdan!”
Berdan Road is the route we drive to school each morning. Prior to the advent of expressways, Berdan was the main thoroughfare which afforded cars a direct route, from the west side of town, to our downtown area. The road cuts through several neighborhoods, yet only contains three traffic lights and no stop signs along the way. In addition the traffic speed is the same as most busy streets, which makes driving to school efficiently, via Berdan road, very easy to do.
After picking up his book, in an effort to avoid the same traffic we encountered on the way to school I decided to cut down to a different street (another hubby route), which while containing more traffic lights, also allows a higher rate of speed. The thought was if I could work the speed limit right, I could easily make all the lights home. Yet, just as our luck was proving, the moment we turned onto the road we were stopped by a train. “A train really?” I said aloud. The boy smirked and grunted. “You know I can’t remember the last time I was caught by a train” I began. “All the tracks around our neighborhood have been removed” The boy turned toward me, smiled and said “Berdan”! Maneuvering the car to turn around, I turned back toward the boy’s oft requested Berdan road, but chose to jump onto the expressway interchange instead. Bad move. Road construction on the E-way brought traffic to a standstill. What should have been a quick three minute commute turned into fifteen minutes of bumper to bumper traffic.
When we finally arrived home, our usual 15 minute ride, to and from the high school had turned into almost an hour. The boy walked into the house, spotted his dad and shouted “Berdan!!!” Coming up behind him I concurred. My husband shrugged his shoulders and smiled in defeat. Yes I won. Now if the boy would only stop shouting “Berdan!” at me every morning…
As if I could forget….
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August 27, 2013Leave a reply