Tonight my commute on Ferry Street from Highway 10 to Bunker Lake Boulevard took 35 minutes instead of the usual 5 minutes. The traffic from the county fair was rough. But as I drove slowly by with all four windows open and my bare arm resting on the car door, listening to the screams of the kids on the Kamikaze, I tried to fix this moment in my mind and come back to it in six months. Because in January I will be wearing a coat, boots and gloves, driving with all four windows up and the heat set on high, vision partially obstructed by a salty grime in the corners of the windshield, and dreaming of the day when I can drive with the windows down again.
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