I love the novel V. I really should reread it since it has been a million years. But part of the opening I remember pretty clearly. Benny Profane, 'a schlemiehl and human yo-yo,' moves up and down Manhattan by subway. Well, I'm with Benny. The last few days I've moved between my poles of Madison and Chicago so frequently, the yo-yo effect is being felt.
Notes and questions that have arisen as a result of this spike in drive time, having to do with the drive itself, which is, on my normal one round trip a week schedule, usually a two and a half hour experience I'm trying to escape:
1) For most relaxing driving, leave either end at around 10:30 at night. It seems the freeways and tollways are usually wide open then, but the overnight construction hasn't gotten rolling fully yet.
2) Driving into Chicago on Sunday at midnight gives you a taste of the quiet, lonely highways of years past. You still almost always see headlights on the interstate, but the cars are very widely spaced. Everybody's got their own section of road.
3) I wonder what the story is with that powerline that's going up right now, running along the southern easement of the I-90 tollway from about, I think, Schaumburg to out past Hoffman Estates. Anybody know what I'm talking about?
4) People have not been speeding, not like in years past. I wonder if the recession has something to do with the seemingly fewer speed limit scofflaws on the roads.
5) It's hard to beat a really good radio show. But still, why do people listen to Bill Cunningham?
6) Chrysler's Belvidere Assembly plant has been idle for weeks now. Driving by, one cannot help wonder if it will ever return to activity, or if we've just witnessed the end. Or rather, the beginning of another mouldering, disused midwestern factory.
7) Mike Wolf sent me a scan of a drawing he did recently. Now I'm imagining this satellite covering the midwest, making visible and maybe keeping track of all the ant-like movements of us humans on the ground. So I would be that one ant you sometimes notice that for no apparent reason to us seems to move between two places, back and forth. Yeah, that's me, and Mike's Satellite of Love floats above.