Dear I-10

This is my blog entry and letter to the busy freeway I used to hate and I left behind in LA thinking that soon was going to crumble like apple crisp when the serious, long awaited earthquake was going to happen. It was one of the asphalt ribbons that tie the smog-wrapped LA into one of the largest urban gifts ever. A gift of transit. If I add the three hours spent daily on I-10 for my commute, Hollywood sign in the distance and hands-free phone connected to my ear, I would certainly revert to the frustrating feeling that my life was being wasted behind the wheel. My daily commute was also my daily terror. From Pasadena to Santa Monica and back I thought only of being killed (and buried) by an earthquake, getting hit by a bigger car or truck while I changed lanes through six freeways, or getting shot by gang members at some slow exit. None of these scenarios is fictional... So dear I-10, your counterpart here in Melbourne is M1. If "I" stands for interstate, "M" stands for ministate. Half your size (three lanes, although a fourth one exists close to the city, it's short and mostly shut down for no reason) and half your weight (true bumper-to-bumper traffic lasts for a lot less time than in LA), M1 is a dwarf! With a little stretch, it gets to Ballarat, maybe 100 km from Melbourne, not beyond. After that it turns into a two lane country road that slows down to 60km/h in populated areas and has a passing lane every x kilometers only... M1 has a few siblings only, so my commute now takes me from the South East to the North of Melbourne through small roads and over 30 traffic lights. I am no longer terrified of earthquakes and gangs, but I do carrythe fear of falling asleep in this very laid back country of Oz. Today's picture represents Princes Bridge over Yarra, which allows cars, carriages and trams to transit into and out of the CBD.