The Beauty of Traffic

            A parade of sedans, trucks (both pickup and freight), motorcycles and buses stretched as far as the overpass would allow Kevin to see; a vein of commuters reaching deep into the heart of the inner city. Every passenger on a mission, a mission to transverse the concrete planes from point A to point B while riding in a giant metal cage etched by craftsmen and engineers alike to cut through the wind, and powered by the precise mixing of air, oil and sparks creating a series of controlled explosions out of life forms long extinct from an younger Earth. And every day it was the same thing to Kevin: a nuisance.

            “God Dammit!” Kevin said for the eighth time in the past five-minutes-and-forty-seven seconds, which was quickly becoming his catch phrase ever since the city broke ground to expand the freeway from a measly three lanes to an effective six, just two-months-and-twenty-three days ago. However a good majority of the freeway was two lanes due to the ironic nature of highway construction.

            Kevin pounded on his steering wheel like a caveman stumbling upon a wheel for his first time and, after seeing the usefulness of such a device, declared it to be a form of witchcraft and had it promptly destroyed, and later would commence the burning at the stake of anyone and everyone who contributed to such treachery. An action typically deemed socially acceptable if and only iff Kevin had heavy rock music blasting at full volume, but instead made him come off as a crazy man (or normal commuter) within the silence of his 2008 Honda Fit.

            If Kevin would have taken a moment to relieve his stress with a deep breath of air, he would perhaps be able to calm down and focus on the more fascinating aspects of the commute. For instance, five vehicles ahead of him; past the lip-stick red Hyundai Sonata, the Mercedes-Benz S550 tinted so black that looking upon it is like gazing into the empty void of universe, the hulking Kenworth  T700 semi, and the humble silver Chevy Silverado Chassis sat a burnt-orange Toyota Prius.

            Although an odd color for most cars, which Kevin most likely agrees with, the car itself is quite the achievement. Rated one of the cleanest cars in terms of total smog emissions by the EPA, it is one of the best cars to own if you’re into the whole save-the-environment thing. Kevin was not, all he wanted was an affordable car that would get him too-and-from work, nothing wrong with that. The Prius, unlike his car, uses a unique blend of combustion engine and an electric drive train. This unique combination allows the vehicle to cut down on fuel emissions allowing a cleaner and smoother ride.

            Back in Kevin’s car he had turned on the radio, he continued to absently flipped through every radio station that played within the range of music he enjoyed, ranging from: alternative rock, classic rock, and electronic; but found nothing he enjoyed. After much debate with himself he kept the radio on an alternative rock station just in case something good would come on.
            At the speed of a glacier during spring time, the line of traffic began creeping forward, a sense of relief flew through Kevin’s mind. They had finally done it, the traffic was cleared and he would actually be able to make it to work in time for his first time in a month! The crowd of cars began accelerating fast and faster, he had gone from zero to twenty in thirty seconds, a record breaking speed for a land vehicle on that highway since the dawn of the expansion.

Thirty billion years ago when the universe was conceived from nothing to something all the laws of physics were born, from gravitational waves bounding planets to stars in an eternal dance, to the nuclear forces holding quarks together inside the nucleus of an atom in much the same manner peanut butter sticks to ones mouth. Each law mind boggling and confusing that even the smartest humans ever to live struggle to understand them, yet they are signs of the universe’s elegance. But somewhere down the line, the universe must have gotten lazy and rehashed the same equations that are used in fluid flow and applied them to traffic.

Three miles ahead, like a boulder falling into a river that was doing just fine until pesky gravity had to intrude into the river’s personal space blocking off all water flow into the valley below, and probably killing all the vegetation down there too, a gust of wind decided it wasn't blowing strongly enough and decided to prove its might by lifting off the hardhat of a construction worker enjoying a nice cup of his favorite dark roast, no cream or sugar added ("A man's coffee," he would say). The hat flew into the air, violently spinning about its center of mass, the sun’s light reflecting off the glazed-yellow surface like a disco ball. It smashed into the ground, not even getting a scratch on it, proving its worth as an effective hardhat, and rolled into the street. Still tired the worker didn't notice his empty head until the hat had rolled halfway into the highway. He chased after his hat, completely forgetting about his coffee and the molasses paced traffic, causing a driver of a Mercury Mariner to slam on her breaks, which was promptly rear ended by a Nissan Altima, both of which combined are as heavy as the boulder mentioned previously. A ripple of red lights transverse the highway, occasionally joined in by the chorus of horns, as if letting out loud noises were going to solve the problem.

Kevin, still oblivious to the situation due to his distance between the accident and himself, was cruising at a constant twenty-six miles-an-hour, his hands banging on the steering wheel to this favorite song of the season, a catchy tune by a band that might be forgotten by next year. Things were looking better, he was going to be to work on time, and possibly leading to the promotion he begged his boss to give him forty-eight days ago. It was going to be a good day. Then the rear lights on the lip-stick red Hyundai Sonata turned as red as the car itself, slowly decelerating to a standstill.

“God Dammit!” Kevin said for his ninth time in the past eight-minutes-and-sixty-seconds.