It’s about 6:45 am, time to begin my morning commute to work. Actually, commute isn’t nearly descriptive enough for this trip. A better word might be odyssey. Fortunately, the sun is coming up over the horizon, and Aretha Franklin is serenading:
“At work, I just take time
And all through my coffee break time
I say a little prayer for you…”
Burt Bacharach/Hal David
It’s a nice sentiment, and I’m dedicating this classic tune to the earth, the beneficiary of my efforts to cut my carbon footprint. It’s ironic that my thoughts turn in that direction as I’m driving a 1999 Ford Mustang, the ultimate muscle car…not exactly a high mileage vehicle.
And to make matters worse, my destination in Rockville, Maryland, is 32 miles from home. For those of you who are unacquainted with D.C. traffic, that means my man toy and I spend an average of 75 to 90 minutes together traversing suburban interstates during the height of the rush hour. Generally the trip home is about 20-30 minutes longer. And yes, that means I leave behind one heckuva carbon footprint every day. It’s easily my biggest environmental violation.
But I’m not thinking about that as I approach a traffic intersection, waiting for a green light. In the next lane is a black Mazda, its owner peering over at me and revving his feeble little engine, clearly issuing a challenge to see who can be the first to the next intersection, a mere 200 feet away. The light turns green, and he quickly darts from the intersection, tires screeching.
“Ha” I think to myself. You just wasted gas and tire tread for your simple little testosterone-fueled thrill. If I wanted to challenge you, my Mustang’s 3.5 liter engine would have blown you off the street. But I’ve got more important priorities now.
Chain, chain, chain
Chain, chain, chain
Chain of fools
About 20 minutes later, I’m northbound on the Capitol Beltway, crawling at a 15 mile an hour clip. The commute is approaching 45 minutes and I’ve traveled all of 12 miles. But Aretha’s still belting out great music, and I’m still groovin’. Suddenly. there’s another interruption. There’s a gentleman – okay I’m not actually thinking “gentleman” but this is a G-rated blog – driving sleek silver BMW. I can see him in my rear mirror, aggressively charging in front of some poor motorist. Then, in an instant, as my lane finally begins to clear, he darts in front of me and zooms off. I look at my speedometer…I’m going about 35 mph…and he’s now going about 60. “Fool!”, I think to myself. A light tap on the accelerator and this powerful machine, based on testimony from other proud Mustang owners, could go from zero to 60 mph in under 5 seconds. A few weeks ago, he’d be eating my dust. But thoughts of preserving the earth prevailed. While the Beemer continued darting in and out of traffic lanes, and I continued toward the office, with my environmental conscience and my manhood still intact.
If I can’t drive a Prius, Civic or other gas-saver, at least I can drive green. Which means I am now committed to maintaining moderate speeds, avoiding fast starts and leaving early enough so I don’t have to rush. Some day, I’ll be able to cut my footprint and gas consumption even further, but for now, green driving habits are the key to becoming more eco-friendly.
Oh wait…traffic is clearing. I’m yielding to temptation…and the speedometer needle reaches, then passes 40…50….60… with the retractable roof down, it’s an awesome feeling, a light breeze in my face and the invigorating feeling of my powerful V6 engine pushing ever faster, and then…
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Aretha brings me back to earth (pun intended). I’ve tamed the need for speed one more time…at least until the evening commute.
[…] a previous post, I described my 32-mile drive from Centreville to Rockville, my twice-a-day weekday interface with thousands of my fellow D.C. area commuters. For people […]
The fact that the black mazda is much lighter than your heavy 99 mustang V6 with 210 horsepower means you probably would not have beaten it in a race.
PS I own an 01 Mustang GT, Im not a muscle hater.