I have such a nice drive to work, especially this time of year.  From my small town through another small yet slightly bigger town past the small-ish Air Force base and entering into the city, a city on the small-ish side.  Traffic?  Yes, I complain about it sometimes.  Really, do I need to hit every stoplight?  I mean, that adds a whole 5 minutes to my 20 minute commute!  Then I think about a time when I lived in a very large, very busy, very crowded city.  I loved it, mind you, but ooooooohhhh, the commute.  Round trip, it took a mile of walking, rushing to, waiting for and catching four Metro (subway) trains and two hours of commuting…and that was good!  At least I didn’t have to sit in traffic, inching closer and closer to my destination.  But on the days that it snowed and the snow plows cleared the streets…onto the sidewalks where I walked???  We won’t even go there.

So, no, my current commute is N.O.T.H.I.N.G.  And, like I said, especially this time of year because the fields are laden with wheat, ready to be harvested any day.  I wouldn’t consider the town and city next to us farmy communities, but to a New Yorker or a Washington D.C.-ite, we probably live in the boondocks.  “You know, to get to Target, go past the wheat field and turn right.  Or, you want to stay at the hotel, yeah, there’s only one It’s in the middle of the wheat field, ya’ can’t miss it.”

I love it.  Every time I drive to work, passing wheat fields the entire way, I love it.  It reminds me of the days I would ride with dad in the combine, sitting on the arm rest or laying on the floor against the big front window that curved to your back.  The header rolling through the wheat just below; the dusty smell filling the air; voices crackling over the CB.   “Hey, yeah, Bulldog, we got us a problem here at the truck.  Could you take a look?”  “10-4, good buddy.  Bulldog over and out.”  Or the times I would crawl in the back of a truck (a real “truck” not a pickup), filled with wheat and bury myself like I was at the beach.  Or the times I would chew a mouthful of wheat forEVER trying to make gum.  (It never was very good, but I kept chewing.)

Yeah, I like my commute to work.  I like my small town and my small city.  And I like those wheat fields.