(INTRO) The morning commute may be a fact of modern life, but commentator Willem Lange says in some ways, it feels downright prehistoric.
(LANGE) I frequently drive east on US Route 2 early in the morning. As the sun rises over the White Mountains, I can see the vehicles coming toward me; and I’m amazed how many of them are pickup trucks, sometimes a dozen or more in a row without a single sedan. Good old American iron, mostly, taking the early shift to work. I still drive a pickup myself; so I feel a certain kinship, even though I’m driving a little Japanese truck. Now and then I give a modest steering-wheel wave to an oncoming windshield, and almost always get an answering one – but with a puzzled face behind it wondering, "Now, who the heck is that?"
I know all the coffee stops – East Montpelier, Plainfield, Marshfield, West Danville – and the price for a cup at each one. If I’m taking Route 25 to Bradford, I stop at the Waits River General Store to chat with Bill MacDonald and urge the kids waiting for the bus to stay in school.
If I’m not in a hurry, I often stop for breakfast. I have my newspaper with me in case there’s no one to talk to. But there almost always is. Early morning is Cave Time for guys in every village along the way.
There are two shifts of these fraternal societies. The early shift arrives in pickup trucks. They get something to go, and don’t stay long; gotta get to work! You can hear their radios blasting as they leave.
The second shift is older guys. They’re retired, but still get up early. So they gather at a nearby fast food joint or a local restaurant where they can sit and talk for the price of a cup of coffee and a sweet roll. They’re as hard to sneak up on as wild geese – somebody’s always got an eye peeled – but they’re easy to engage. You say something like, "This all you do all day?" or "You guys waitin’ for the van to the Senior Center? Just went by." You’re at home in less than a minute.
Guys need cave time. Always have, since way back in…well, cave times. I guess women do, too, but I don’t know much about that. The universal default mode is unanimity and comfort. The solidarity of the group takes precedence over any differences. I’ve enjoyed it for more than sixty years in hunting camps, around campfires at night, on work crews during lunch breaks. There’s something soothing to a man’s ears and psyche in the rough rumble of other men’s voices.
Language evolves to answer different needs. You won’t hear the same sophistication at 6:00 a.m. in a Vermont feed store as you will in the English Department conference room at tea time. Each level suits the needs of its context. You can imagine which, if given a choice, I prefer.
This is Willem Lange in East Montpelier, and I gotta get back to work.