And then on the 8th day, there was.....traffic.

So, I'm at work, pondering the deeper mysteries of this dried up thing on my arm that I won't go get checked out (translated as picking at it). My long-time friend from childhood logs on.

He's just graduated from college, and finally gotten himself an admirable job. I'm beginning to notice a trend in what he talks to me about on IM as the work day winds on, and I decided to write about it today.

He just got a new car. Lucky him. Wonder if I'll ever be that careless with money. Meh...anyway...at first it was just general griping about gas because of the situations with the two hurricanes that recently hit us, plus its general rising over the last few years.

Why?

Because...he has to drive from the core of Dallas all the way to Richardson to get to work.

I used to do that kind of stuff, long ago, in my '73 Mustang. Irving to Garland I believe was the route. Imagine the stretch of road on 635, the section between 35 and 75...bumper to bumper in 114 degree heat, in a car painted black with no A/C, nervously tipping up your water bottle to your mouth and hoping things move soon. You get the idea.

I seemed to remember...no matter how much good music I listened to, no matter how loudly I sang along with it, no matter how upgraded my rides became, I would always come home in a rather ripe, foul mood.

You can just tell by the look on a person's face when they walk in the door, can't you? As a kid I never understood why Mom would have that look on her face when she got back from the grocery store (Mom has always had a habit of driving further and further across town to get to the bigger and better grocery stores...today it's not even grocery stores anymore for her -- it's Super Target).

Anyway, I thought of myself in those days. How foul I'd feel coming home. My ex wife didn't appreciate it when I was married to her and commuting between Irving and Garland. But screw her, she deserves no pity from me, ever. However, my current wife used to notice the same trend with me when I came home when I was commuting from the core of Dallas to HEB and back every day. And I had a much nicer car by then (Lincoln Mark VIII, damn what a ride, wish I still had it...oh well). My drive just got so damn bad I got a special request for a 'straight-8', an eight-hour shift where I took no lunch, just ate at my desk and went home, just to gain some of that wasted drive time back.

Today, I drive a paltry 12 miles to work during peak highway hours. I come in feeling great, and I finally realized today why. Because the drive is nice. Very few a-holes on the road during the times of day I've had to work so far, and very little distance travelled to have to deal with them to begin with. Overall, I'm happier when I first get home, and happier when I first get to work every single day. Yes, yes, yes, the job is part of it too, but I'm talking about a specific mood here, work with me -- the mood I'm in when I actually walk through the door of work/home.

In the early months of 2006, the company I work for is going to be moving just 6 miles from where I live. The gas/drivetime implications of this are simply staggering, as it will be the closest I've ever lived to a job.

Wow...I might come in so bubbly people might actually kill me...I might come home in such a good mood my wife might actually kill me too if she's had a bad day.

Here's another irony for you... when you take a road trip to someplace you WANT to go to, it's generally an enjoyable drive, even if you have to trek 500 miles to get there. You may be a little groggy once you get out of the car, yet nowhere near the fire breathing demon you can be when you've just come home from a bad day of work and crappy traffic. Am I wrong?

Moral of the story is... a good drive is worth its weight in gold. And it contributes to your mental well-being, for better or worse.