Admiring the road you're on

We were stuck in traffic when I said it. There I sat on the verge of crossing the Woodrow Wilson Bridge with cars lined up ahead and behind as far as I could see and one very pissed off Cuban princess in the bucket seat beside me. And when I said it, it only jacked her irritation to the next level.

All I said was, “It’s really something.”

“What is with you?” Cindy said, staring at me as if I had some disease she couldn’t pronounce. “We’re sitting still in a damned black metal box when we should be going sixty miles an hour toward the luncheon we’re already late for and you just sit there with that stupid half-ass grin on your face. What the hell could there be here that’s really something?”

My woman is beautiful, talented and pretty damn smart, but some days she just doesn’t get it. “I was checking out the new construction that’s about to open and I was just thinking it’s a hell of a thing.”

“What, construction?”

“No, babe. The whole interstate highway system. It’s really, kind of an engineering marvel. I mean, look around you. Could you work the architecture of a cloverleaf like that?”

If this was an old time movie, Cindy would have dragged her palm down across her face. “I don’t believe this. We’re stuck here wasting an hour of our lives to travel 2 feet and you’re admiring the frickin’ road.”

I don’t know where she picked up that word, or why she thinks that “fricking” somehow sounds better than the word it replaces. I shook my head and put a hand on her knee. “You know what, babe. These days, everybody whines too much. I ain’t got time for that crap. You have got to take the aerial view. Sure, sitting here is a drag, but it’ll pass.”

“So, what, you’re saying that the fact that crap like this happens don’t matter?” It was abrasive, as always, but her face told me she was trying to understand where I was coming from. And that lock of hair that hangs across her right eye is so cute.

“Let me tell you what being a detective prying into people’s problems has taught me. It’s taught me that people’s troubles are small. But the world is big. It’s big and interesting and, given enough time, it’s forgiving.”

That got her smiling and she nodded slowly. We were quiet for a while. She looked out the window at the guy in the next car who was gritting his teeth. Then she looked back at me.

“Too bad Monte isn’t here,” she said. “You know how he describes you? He says you’re grumpy all the time. But that’s just on the outside. Deep down you’re an optimist, aren’t you?”

“Got to be in my business, sugar. I’ll tell you what I tell Monte. I’m a man. So I don’t worry. Whatever happens, I’ll deal. Ever see Lawrence of Arabia?”

“Yeah.”

“They were at war, for God’s sake. But when Lawrence attacked the Germans, he could still admire how disciplined they were, how they took positions and fired in order, even in retreat. No whining, no hesitation but not rushed either.”

“So your message is, admire your enemy?”

I let out a sigh, but kept my cool. “The message is, admire what’s good. Admire quality. Like I can notice how smooth the Black Beauty idles even when we’ve been sitting here an hour.”

“You named the car,” Cindy said under her breath. I chose to ignore her.

“It could be the grain in a piece of wood, or the feel of a suit when it fits just right. Or how about when you’re in court. What if the other guy presents his case just right? For me, I can admire a perfect hook shot, even if it means I lose on the courts.”

“Yeah, I can get that. I mean admiring the opponent when he gets closer to perfect. It can be hard some days, but I can see it.”

“Well, remember when I told Monte one day that it’s the hard that makes it good?”

Cindy smiled at the memory. “Yeah, I think you were painting those damned shutters.”
“Right. Well, it applies to this too. The fact is, disrespect is easy. It’s a lot harder to give a good performance its props. Just like getting pissed off at traffic is easy. The hard road is to admire the road you’re on.”