From Here to There

Driving today, I thought of my ancestors,

those who lived long before me and my new car

making good time from here to there, some

20 miles, 30 minutes on a good day on country roads.

A lot depends on that five-way corner where the roads

from one town, a village, and the other side

of the bridge from where I’m headed all converge,

three roads crossing and I’m stuck in the lane

to go left; if the morning traffic is heavy,

I wait … and wait … and rely on the quick

pickup of my car to sneak between the next cars coming,

and continuing on to where I’m going, there, safely,

not too delayed, but sated with hot coffee from home

and good music on the radio. Those fore-fathers,

in early auto days, drove these same back roads

in their Model Ts and As rolling off the assembly line

and onto the open road, at a lumbering top speed

of 35 mph, but not here on those rutted rocky roads of then,

spewing dust and dirt and stone, not a steady 35, for sure,

slowed by hills and weather, bone rattling roads

built more for ox and cart, heavy horses hauling.

So let’s lower their speed, one more safely maintained

for ease of driving, say 10, but perhaps that’s pushing it,

but easier for figuring. So, my 30 minutes to the movies,

for those early lovers, took, well a lot longer,

a much less romantic drive, if they arrived

at all, broken down on some dark stretch of Abbot,

awaiting help, though, perhaps, hoping for none in this time

alone together.  But time and life and cars improve,

creeping towards my new car, a technological wonder,

computer controlled safety features, best mileage I’ve ever had,

a smooth ride and driving thrills, cornering and accelerating

on better roads, more frequent trips, more reasons to go

from here, and faster getting to there; the travel time

is time spent alone in thought, hot coffee and good

music, waiting, impatient, or time together with your love, “our song”

played over and over on the CD, streamed from a phone,

holding hands across the console, one hand safely on the wheel,

bucket seats keeping us separated, but time together going from here

to there and home again in haste, free from the worry

of dark stretches of Abbot, street-light lit now, safer, but

fighting a constant flow of cars and trucks and campers,

trailers, the big rigs loaded down, freight and logs rumbling

past, going north and south, faster, one after the other

rushing there to here and back again, like life rushing by.