The road less traveled for me is both figurelitivly and literal. I will first comment on the literal.
My normal route to and from my home out in the country has been changed because of a bridge teardown. The quaint Cloquet River bridge is being torn down and a boring, cement structure is being put up in it’s place. So we in Burnett (which is what my area was called when there was a general store and post office on the corner of my road) have to find alternate routes to town. My two choices are both bad. One is longer and totally dirt and the other is quicker and only part dirt but both are in desperate need of grooming. But I have learned some important lessons taking this road less traveled. I will share those that struck me this morning as I drove home from 12.5 hours of work and was sleep-drunk.
I seriously need either new shocks on my car or a new bra on my boobs. I was bouncing so bad my chin was bruised. I never knew that the right one could go up while the left one was going down. Thankfully they never went sideways or I might have been flung out of my car by the force. And you know how “they” say you can tell if you are fat by “pinching an inch”, I can tell I am fat by how long it takes the fat on my body to stop bouncing after that road. As of today, it is 3.5 minutes. Freaky…
Another important lesson learned today on the ride home…I really need to use the bathroom before leaving my job. All that bouncing on a full bladder gives new meaning to “having to pee so bad, my back teeth are floating”. I mean, I have had acid reflux but I always thought urinary incontenience meant leakage from the “south end” not the north! Oy Vey..
This road is great for making weird noises while singing….gives you lots of vibrato. My grandkids love to make sounds while bouncing over this road.
My wrists are also getting a great workout just trying to hang on to the steering wheel. It’s like the olden days when cars didn’t have power steering. (Anyone remember driving a car like that. I was very preggers and had a car without power steering and I can tell you it wasn’t fun and parking was a full-body workout!)
The road has also help firm up my decision to get to the eye doctor as I no longer can see the pot holes and the deep washboard-like ruts in the road. Side note to self: make appt. to get teeth fixed and jaw realigned and call garage to get tires realigned.
And lastly, a comment on driving sleep-drunk. Don’t do it if you can help it. Today I slammed on the brakes for a rock I thought was a turtle and for a mailbox I mistook for a deer. (It wasn’t the first time I had braked for that &^%$ mailbox. I think they made it look like a deer on purpose.) I have been known to brake for black garbage bags on the side of road I was sure was a bear and for reflective driveway lights I just knew were deer waiting to play their version of “russian roulette” and jump out at me. I must admit, tho, that the scariest things I see when I am so tired are black blobs that run across the road at night. They remind me of those “demon”” things in the movie, “Ghost”. Thankfully I don’t drive home at night anymore after working 17 hours!!
Now about the road that is figuritive. I had taken that road since I was a teen and I know every inch of it intimately. It was never a conscience decision, but one out of survival. (My husband would say it was out of rebellion but it really wasn’t.) I have always been the one who chooses the odd way to do things. My dad would always say I was, “dizzy”, but now I realize it was just my “creative side” coming out. Only back then, creative was on par with odd and no parent wanted an “odd” child. My dad tried to break me of this but I had a part of me that rose up and quietly fought my way out of being “normal”. I think when you can’t please anyone no matter what you do, you have two choices. I chose the road less traveled, tho it meant being an “outsider” much of the time. At the time it was often painful (literally…my dad had “the fastest belt in the West”) and I could live the rest of my life on the tears I shed but I became a strong individual because of it. I did my share of peer pressure stuff but I mostly did what I wanted, even if it meant doing it alone. Sure it was scary but being “not me” was even scarier to me. And believe it or not, there are some things that I want to do that even today, scare me. But when you live with fear your whole life, being scared it just normal. I try to see which is the “worse of two evils”: being scared or not doing what I want. And most of the time, I jump with both feet into that which scares me. that unknown path in the road less traveled. I am anxiously awaiting death as it will really be my last jump and the only one I have no fear of doing!!!