Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Shake It Up, Baby

A long, high bridge, five lanes in each direction, spans the Cuyahoga River Valley and the Flats just west of downtown Cleveland, which one encounters at rush hour, invariably jammed with traffic so that at least two or three, sometimes four, and at times all five lanes are stopped or nearly stopped.

This morning, stopped on the bridge, I was looking down at the yellow taxi cabs against the black cinder parking lot of the cab company way down below, wondering when I was going to get to where I was going. I looked in my rear-view mirror at the driver, alone in his large SUV, the new Lincoln Eliminator, I think; and I had to laugh at the look of fear, no, horror, on his face, while holding the steering wheel with both hands, sitting rock still, face straight ahead, but eyes darting left and right. No, it was not the heavy traffic, although that, I am sure, contributed to his extreme consternation, but it was the roadway, which was bouncing, shaking, and swaying, as usual, without any regard to this man's feelings.