I ventured south to visit family and friends for a few days. I had a wonderful time with family and friends. Not so much with other drivers.
We’re so polite when we drive at home; everyone yields for everything: people; other cars; deer; turkeys; you name it. I have ALMOST lost my driving mojo. Instead, I’ve become more passive aggressive – I waved with a smile in at least two instances when other cars tailgated me at 60 mph. It’s just as easy to be nice. And what’s the rush.
I had hoped to run along the beach to the house we rented during the winter of 2008 on Fire Island but the bridge to the barrier beach was closed. I had almost forgotten about Superstorm Sandy but was quickly reminded by all the enormous, fallen trees. If you need firewood, head south. The sand was blown over the Ocean Parkway, which is on the barrier beach where Jones beach is. I decided to run along Jones Beach instead. But the boardwalks were destroyed by the storm and it was very isolated.
I realized I am very comfortable being all by myself in an underpopulated area but not where there are millions of people lurking beyond the dunes. Especially since I was running where the bodies linked to the Gilgo Beach serial killer have been found. So my gut said no, I curtailed my run and headed for the hills.
There’s no place like home.
