By Michael L. Alumbaugh, © 2021
Whizzing through the 37th Street light, I came to an abrupt stop. It was 6:15 on Monday morning. I had 15 minutes in which to clock in and here I sat stalled in traffic. We’d been on a refreshing weeklong vacation of “honey do’s”, picnics and family outings. Being late to work the first day back wasn’t on my agenda!
But did I really care? The work, along with a decent salary was fine; gathering numbers, tracing productivity, daily meetings, the job itself was all good, stressful at times, but good. It was the general corporate atmosphere of “the swamp” that was taxing; those vying for position, power plays, manipulation of the facts (and numbers), the maneuvering for position by some, and shenanigans by others.
It was politics to the max like some game to be played. Backstabbing was the order of the day. And all usually at the expense of others livelihoods. I’d had enough for a lifetime! All that pressure was returning as I drew closer to my destination. Why couldn’t we just do our jobs, enjoy the camaraderie and go home to relax at night?
Surveying the immediate conditions, a mile-long line of taillights illuminated the dark inside lane of K-15 as it curved into the distance. The next traffic light was on MacArthur where I had to make a left but the turn lanes were apparently blocked. Whether it was a malfunctioning light or an accident up ahead, I couldn’t discern.
Occasionally, cars zipped by in the outside lane as I sat in my “mini-Corvette”, a fiery red ’90 Saturn. Headlights started filling the rearview mirror as a string of cars collected behind me. I reached up to flip the mirror down to dim mode. As I did, I noticed a young lady in the car behind me squirming and wriggling in the driver’s seat as if getting into something. Then she paused, grabbed something from her lap and started putting on makeup and eyeliner.
Holy cow! She was dressing! What had she done, left her place in her nightgown? What a crazy place to dress! I flipped the mirror tab down and fixed my gaze ahead. The car in front inched along now so I moved in concert with it.
Cars in the outside lane kept flying by. I considered my options: I could stay in line or change lanes, go past the intersection to 47th Street South, hang a left, backtrack another mile . . . and still end up late. Sigh! I was frustrated. The cars ahead continued their periodic advances. I proceeded forward like a link in a chain.
As I sat there watching cars pass, my mind wandered. What was south of here anyway? There was Derby just a few miles down the road, then Arkansas City. Further down there was Ponca City, next Oklahoma City and then Fort Worth and Dallas. We’d visited that area a year or two before. The bronze mustangs in Las Colinas were fabulous. The kids loved them! My mind journeyed onward as traffic continued inching along.
So, what was south of Dallas? I hadn’t travelled that far but remembered the map we’d studied for a trip. Ah, yes, there was Waco, then Austin, San Antonio, Corpus Christi and finally Padre Island. A few short years prior, my college art class had travelled to Padre Island for a painting skills project. I didn’t think I could afford it and stayed home. A major mistake on my part! I recalled the stories my classmates had shared upon their return. How I longed to have gone and been a part of that life lesson. But I didn’t. And now, here I sat, stuck in traffic.
But wait! I had an inspiration! Checking the gas gauge, the tank was full! This car was getting 26 mpg and the distance to Padre Island was only about 750 miles. That’s only 30 gallons. I could leave this rat race and make it there in no time! I could call my Bride and tell her I’d be back by the weekend, and enjoy the scenery. WOW!
The fantasy enveloped me. I was entranced! I grabbed the steering wheel, checked for passing cars in my passenger side mirror, flipped on my right blinker, turned the wheels toward the outside lane and slowly pressed the gas pedal. Then, like a brick, sanity hit me!
“What am I doing?” I exclaimed! I have a beautiful wife and five kids depending on me to provide for them. Who do I think I am anyway?
I turned the steering wheel back correcting my direction, turned off the blinker and watched the traffic up ahead. It was moving faster now.
As I moved forward I could see the intersection. There were flashing lights from a police vehicle in the distance. A local yokel was directing traffic toward the aircraft facility. As I got closer I saw the holdup, an old pickup truck with the hood up in the left turn lane.
By now I knew the outcome for me; I’d make it to work on time after all. I’d add value to my work team and moral, emotional, spiritual, financial and physical support to my family. Their bright eyes and beaming smiles beat hands down anything my imaginary escape could offer me. And I felt like a fully dedicated husband and father again, not some selfish moron on a mission to avoid responsibility.
The words from Psalms 37:23 came to mind; “The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in his way.” Thank you Lord!
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