I Used To Feel Stuck During Rush Hour Traffic But Now I Get The Hang Of It

In the August sun, it’s unbearably hot in my car. My air conditioner doesn’t work unless the car is moving. My car won’t move. I’m in Richmond, BC approaching the Knight Street Bridge as I try to get home after work. It’s 5:15 p.m. Traffic already slows down and then stops completely. Phew! I’m stuck even before I get on the bridge. Like it or not, this has become my work commute routine. In front of me is a very clogged ramp. I look at the endless lines of vehicles, disappointed.
My initial reaction is always denial. It doesn’t seem that way. The rollout will start soon. I’ll be home before I know it. Seconds pass. The minutes pass. I’m thinking of turning off the engine. Then I fall back on my second strategy: delusion. I try to forget that I’m in a “traffic jam”. Looking at the rows of cars and trucks glistening in the sun, I start counting — 299, 300, 301 — and give up. I suddenly remember that I am one of 300 helpless drivers. I struggle to stay awake. When the cars are moving, I have to move too, careful not to hit the car in front of me, which will stop again at any moment. When I’m too slow, someone cuts right in front and takes my place. This is driving me crazy. I remember what my friend suggested — it’s not healthy to smoke silently and I should swear. then I would feel better. Raised by Japanese parents, I’m not used to swearing. But I’m trying anyway. This fails miserably. Now I feel helpless and stupid.
Traffic on Vancouver’s Knight Street Bridge is pictured on April 9, 2021. (Ben Nelms/CBC) Through practicing waiting, moving and stopping and waiting, I finally reach the bridge. Traffic is still crawling at a snail’s pace. Tired and hungry, I get even more agitated.
Just then, I hear a faint sound in the distance. The sound gradually gets louder, until I can unmistakably identify it as an emergency vehicle approaching from afar. What are we doing? The bridge is crowded. There is no room to shift. I’m wrong. Each car moves quickly, but carefully, to each side of the bridge, creating an emergency lane in the middle. Without thinking, I follow suit. The lane remains open for a few seconds during which the mighty ambulance passes.
Then every car, including mine, returns to its previous formation. As the siren grows fainter, we turn off the ghost lane, ready to continue our patient practice of waiting on the bridge.
I go back to my seat, I’m surprised. At this moment, I don’t remember being tired or hungry. My anxiety is gone. I spend the rest of my journey home reflecting on what happened and what I just did with over 300 fellow drivers. Even when the bridge was absolutely full, we created the extra lane, wide enough for the ambulance. Then everyone waited. How did we do this? We were all tired of being stuck. Perhaps, it was the loud siren that scared us and all we could do was get away as fast as possible. We are polite Canadians after all. This is one of my theories.
Here’s another one. Maybe, we just knew what to do. Despite our exhaustion, in the moment of confusion and realization, we collectively decided to help the stranger we didn’t know and were unlikely to meet. For the stranger who needed the time more desperately than we did, we relied on our compassion and intelligence, no instructions required. I’ve decided I like this theory better.
On the bridge, I’m still stuck. But suddenly there is a huge space in my car. And I’m not alone. I am connected to all the drivers on the bridge, who are kind and intelligent beyond my imagination. The event changed my view of traffic for good. Today, whenever I’m stuck in traffic, I remember this fact with a smile. I remember kindness. That together we are capable of making the impossible possible even in a very stressful time. Do you have a compelling personal story that can bring understanding or help others? We want to hear from you. Here’s more information on how to submit to us.

title: “I Used To Feel Stuck During Rush Hour Traffic But Now I Get The Hang Of It Klmat” ShowToc: true date: “2022-10-24” author: “Leonard Barnes”

In the August sun, it’s unbearably hot in my car. My air conditioner doesn’t work unless the car is moving. My car won’t move. I’m in Richmond, BC approaching the Knight Street Bridge as I try to get home after work. It’s 5:15 p.m. Traffic already slows down and then stops completely. Phew! I’m stuck even before I get on the bridge. Like it or not, this has become my work commute routine. In front of me is a very clogged ramp. I look at the endless lines of vehicles, disappointed.
My initial reaction is always denial. It doesn’t seem that way. The rollout will start soon. I’ll be home before I know it. Seconds pass. The minutes pass. I’m thinking of turning off the engine. Then I fall back on my second strategy: delusion. I try to forget that I’m in a “traffic jam”. Looking at the rows of cars and trucks glistening in the sun, I start counting — 299, 300, 301 — and give up. I suddenly remember that I am one of 300 helpless drivers. I struggle to stay awake. When the cars are moving, I have to move too, careful not to hit the car in front of me, which will stop again at any moment. When I’m too slow, someone cuts right in front and takes my place. This is driving me crazy. I remember what my friend suggested — it’s not healthy to smoke silently and I should swear. then I would feel better. Raised by Japanese parents, I’m not used to swearing. But I’m trying anyway. This fails miserably. Now I feel helpless and stupid.
Traffic on Vancouver’s Knight Street Bridge is pictured on April 9, 2021. (Ben Nelms/CBC) Through practicing waiting, moving and stopping and waiting, I finally reach the bridge. Traffic is still crawling at a snail’s pace. Tired and hungry, I get even more agitated.
Just then, I hear a faint sound in the distance. The sound gradually gets louder, until I can unmistakably identify it as an emergency vehicle approaching from afar. What are we doing? The bridge is crowded. There is no room to shift. I’m wrong. Each car moves quickly, but carefully, to each side of the bridge, creating an emergency lane in the middle. Without thinking, I follow suit. The lane remains open for a few seconds during which the mighty ambulance passes.
Then every car, including mine, returns to its previous formation. As the siren grows fainter, we turn off the ghost lane, ready to continue our patient practice of waiting on the bridge.
I go back to my seat, I’m surprised. At this moment, I don’t remember being tired or hungry. My anxiety is gone. I spend the rest of my journey home reflecting on what happened and what I just did with over 300 fellow drivers. Even when the bridge was absolutely full, we created the extra lane, wide enough for the ambulance. Then everyone waited. How did we do this? We were all tired of being stuck. Perhaps, it was the loud siren that scared us and all we could do was get away as fast as possible. We are polite Canadians after all. This is one of my theories.
Here’s another one. Maybe, we just knew what to do. Despite our exhaustion, in the moment of confusion and realization, we collectively decided to help the stranger we didn’t know and were unlikely to meet. For the stranger who needed the time more desperately than we did, we relied on our compassion and intelligence, no instructions required. I’ve decided I like this theory better.
On the bridge, I’m still stuck. But suddenly there is a huge space in my car. And I’m not alone. I am connected to all the drivers on the bridge, who are kind and intelligent beyond my imagination. The event changed my view of traffic for good. Today, whenever I’m stuck in traffic, I remember this fact with a smile. I remember kindness. That together we are capable of making the impossible possible even in a very stressful time. Do you have a compelling personal story that can bring understanding or help others? We want to hear from you. Here’s more information on how to submit to us.

title: “I Used To Feel Stuck During Rush Hour Traffic But Now I Get The Hang Of It Klmat” ShowToc: true date: “2022-11-05” author: “Stephen Kent”

In the August sun, it’s unbearably hot in my car. My air conditioner doesn’t work unless the car is moving. My car won’t move. I’m in Richmond, BC approaching the Knight Street Bridge as I try to get home after work. It’s 5:15 p.m. Traffic already slows down and then stops completely. Phew! I’m stuck even before I get on the bridge. Like it or not, this has become my work commute routine. In front of me is a very clogged ramp. I look at the endless lines of vehicles, disappointed.
My initial reaction is always denial. It doesn’t seem that way. The rollout will start soon. I’ll be home before I know it. Seconds pass. The minutes pass. I’m thinking of turning off the engine. Then I fall back on my second strategy: delusion. I try to forget that I’m in a “traffic jam”. Looking at the rows of cars and trucks glistening in the sun, I start counting — 299, 300, 301 — and give up. I suddenly remember that I am one of 300 helpless drivers. I struggle to stay awake. When the cars are moving, I have to move too, careful not to hit the car in front of me, which will stop again at any moment. When I’m too slow, someone cuts right in front and takes my place. This is driving me crazy. I remember what my friend suggested — it’s not healthy to smoke silently and I should swear. then I would feel better. Raised by Japanese parents, I’m not used to swearing. But I’m trying anyway. This fails miserably. Now I feel helpless and stupid.
Traffic on Vancouver’s Knight Street Bridge is pictured on April 9, 2021. (Ben Nelms/CBC) Through practicing waiting, moving and stopping and waiting, I finally reach the bridge. Traffic is still crawling at a snail’s pace. Tired and hungry, I get even more agitated.
Just then, I hear a faint sound in the distance. The sound gradually gets louder, until I can unmistakably identify it as an emergency vehicle approaching from afar. What are we doing? The bridge is crowded. There is no room to shift. I’m wrong. Each car moves quickly, but carefully, to each side of the bridge, creating an emergency lane in the middle. Without thinking, I follow suit. The lane remains open for a few seconds during which the mighty ambulance passes.
Then every car, including mine, returns to its previous formation. As the siren grows fainter, we turn off the ghost lane, ready to continue our patient practice of waiting on the bridge.
I go back to my seat, I’m surprised. At this moment, I don’t remember being tired or hungry. My anxiety is gone. I spend the rest of my journey home reflecting on what happened and what I just did with over 300 fellow drivers. Even when the bridge was absolutely full, we created the extra lane, wide enough for the ambulance. Then everyone waited. How did we do this? We were all tired of being stuck. Perhaps, it was the loud siren that scared us and all we could do was get away as fast as possible. We are polite Canadians after all. This is one of my theories.
Here’s another one. Maybe, we just knew what to do. Despite our exhaustion, in the moment of confusion and realization, we collectively decided to help the stranger we didn’t know and were unlikely to meet. For the stranger who needed the time more desperately than we did, we relied on our compassion and intelligence, no instructions required. I’ve decided I like this theory better.
On the bridge, I’m still stuck. But suddenly there is a huge space in my car. And I’m not alone. I am connected to all the drivers on the bridge, who are kind and intelligent beyond my imagination. The event changed my view of traffic for good. Today, whenever I’m stuck in traffic, I remember this fact with a smile. I remember kindness. That together we are capable of making the impossible possible even in a very stressful time. Do you have a compelling personal story that can bring understanding or help others? We want to hear from you. Here’s more information on how to submit to us.

title: “I Used To Feel Stuck During Rush Hour Traffic But Now I Get The Hang Of It Klmat” ShowToc: true date: “2022-10-22” author: “Sandra Mullins”

In the August sun, it’s unbearably hot in my car. My air conditioner doesn’t work unless the car is moving. My car won’t move. I’m in Richmond, BC approaching the Knight Street Bridge as I try to get home after work. It’s 5:15 p.m. Traffic already slows down and then stops completely. Phew! I’m stuck even before I get on the bridge. Like it or not, this has become my work commute routine. In front of me is a very clogged ramp. I look at the endless lines of vehicles, disappointed.
My initial reaction is always denial. It doesn’t seem that way. The rollout will start soon. I’ll be home before I know it. Seconds pass. The minutes pass. I’m thinking of turning off the engine. Then I fall back on my second strategy: delusion. I try to forget that I’m in a “traffic jam”. Looking at the rows of cars and trucks glistening in the sun, I start counting — 299, 300, 301 — and give up. I suddenly remember that I am one of 300 helpless drivers. I struggle to stay awake. When the cars are moving, I have to move too, careful not to hit the car in front of me, which will stop again at any moment. When I’m too slow, someone cuts right in front and takes my place. This is driving me crazy. I remember what my friend suggested — it’s not healthy to smoke silently and I should swear. then I would feel better. Raised by Japanese parents, I’m not used to swearing. But I’m trying anyway. This fails miserably. Now I feel helpless and stupid.
Traffic on Vancouver’s Knight Street Bridge is pictured on April 9, 2021. (Ben Nelms/CBC) Through practicing waiting, moving and stopping and waiting, I finally reach the bridge. Traffic is still crawling at a snail’s pace. Tired and hungry, I get even more agitated.
Just then, I hear a faint sound in the distance. The sound gradually gets louder, until I can unmistakably identify it as an emergency vehicle approaching from afar. What are we doing? The bridge is crowded. There is no room to shift. I’m wrong. Each car moves quickly, but carefully, to each side of the bridge, creating an emergency lane in the middle. Without thinking, I follow suit. The lane remains open for a few seconds during which the mighty ambulance passes.
Then every car, including mine, returns to its previous formation. As the siren grows fainter, we turn off the ghost lane, ready to continue our patient practice of waiting on the bridge.
I go back to my seat, I’m surprised. At this moment, I don’t remember being tired or hungry. My anxiety is gone. I spend the rest of my journey home reflecting on what happened and what I just did with over 300 fellow drivers. Even when the bridge was absolutely full, we created the extra lane, wide enough for the ambulance. Then everyone waited. How did we do this? We were all tired of being stuck. Perhaps, it was the loud siren that scared us and all we could do was get away as fast as possible. We are polite Canadians after all. This is one of my theories.
Here’s another one. Maybe, we just knew what to do. Despite our exhaustion, in the moment of confusion and realization, we collectively decided to help the stranger we didn’t know and were unlikely to meet. For the stranger who needed the time more desperately than we did, we relied on our compassion and intelligence, no instructions required. I’ve decided I like this theory better.
On the bridge, I’m still stuck. But suddenly there is a huge space in my car. And I’m not alone. I am connected to all the drivers on the bridge, who are kind and intelligent beyond my imagination. The event changed my view of traffic for good. Today, whenever I’m stuck in traffic, I remember this fact with a smile. I remember kindness. That together we are capable of making the impossible possible even in a very stressful time. Do you have a compelling personal story that can bring understanding or help others? We want to hear from you. Here’s more information on how to submit to us.