The Five O'clock Club

I am usually a nice person. You might even call me patient. I'm even kind to telemarketers. Really. I blow them off as nicely as I possibly can. No reason to ruin their days, afterall, just for doing their jobs.

But I am one mean SOB when I'm on the same road as other people.

That is one of many reason I love to drive early in the morning. Put me behind the wheel at four or five in the morning, and I'm ... well ... content. In fact, 5 AM used to be my favorite time of day.

There I'd be, practically all alone on the stretch of road between Home and Work, sipping my coffee, listening to talk radio.

I got to know the cars on my route. Sure, It was too dark to recognize the drivers, but I knew them. We were an Elite, they and I. An exclusive Membership. The Five O'clock Club. No non-members allowed. And Oh! The feeling of tresspass when an unrecognized High-beam came into view. As though it belonged here!

Five O'clock was a magic hour. A time when all the world would stand still and watch us drive; and we, for those too few moments, would be free of everything. The road belonged to us, and we to the road. A marriage of rubber and pavement and soul: what God has brought together let no man put asunder.

I remember watching the sun start to rise over my street, to wake the rest of the world and let them know it was okay. The Five O'clock Club has started their day -- you may rise and move about. The Elite has tested the day, and found it good.

And slowly, like a child dipping a toe in a cold pond, the first few cars -- the more self-assured -- would reach the pavement and begin the day.

Posted by Randy at 1 06, 2003 09:11 PM