It's 11:30 in the morning on a Friday. I'm in my mid-to-late 20s. As usual I had worked 9 hours on Monday through Thursday and now I only needed to put in 4 hours on Friday, and my 4 hours of drinking coffee and reading Michigan sports blogs was now up. I walk out the front door of my office on Naval Base San Diego, holding only my now empty to-go coffee mug as I stroll to my car. It's warm, sunny and there is slight breeze blowing the palm trees that line the streets along the base. I'm in khakis, a polo shirt and light blue Pumas.
I get into my black Camaro and immediately pop on my sunglasses and roll the windows down, my iPod connects and my music is playing. I drive off base and head home ready to make myself a nice sandwich and a wash it down with a cold Tecate. Weekend plans are minimal - a wide open two and a half days in gorgeous Southern California lie ahead of me. But more literally lying ahead of me is a nearly empty freeway ready to take me home.
This brief 15 minute trip home is one of the rare times I can expect there to be minimal traffic in San Diego. This is perfect as I briefly merge onto the 5 (I-5) shifting from third into forth gear, and then I immediately exit onto the 15 (I-15). I'm still baffled why people in Southern California use "the" in front of their highways instead of "I-" or "Interstate". Once I get on the 15 I can open it up into 5th gear and really get going, but I'm only on the 15 for about a mile before I have to take the ramp to get on the 94 that takes me to my exit.
 |
| The Ramp - Notice the white car making use of the shoulder |
The ramp onto the 94, like most interchanges in Southern California, is a bit tighter compared to what you typically see in the Midwest. Because of this, the two-lane ramp is heavily banked, and as you go through the ramp it also increases in elevation to bring you up to the grade of the 94 as the ramp spits you out.
 |
| My deepest respect for whoever designed this ramp |
By the time I enter the ramp, I've already assessed if the traffic will cooperate. More often than not, it does, and I enter the ramp in the leftmost lane going about 80-85. As the banking starts I let my foot off the gas as I drift over into the right lane and eventually cross the solid white line until I'm fully on the apron at the apex of the curve. I let up on the steering as I begin to ride back up the banking of the curve and downshift to 4th gear. As this perfect arc of a curve approaches it's conclusion, the road begins to level out, and just as the turn is complete and I stomp on the gas and the engine in my Camaro roars at high RPMs effectively having been launched out of the ramp still going about 70, and accelerating towards my house and my weekend, as I drive with the windows down, sun overhead, music blaring and 3 cups of caffeine in my veins plus now just a bit of adrenaline.
And that, my friends, is a certain feeling.
