I didn’t use to commute. In fact, I remember a few years back writing a dispatch about my then commute, which involved going upstairs after breakfast and working on my computer. I would then come downstairs for lunch. Was life better then? In some ways yes and in some ways no.

I would like to strike a much needed balance, and at least half-time work at home.

Driving in the dark is what Alaskan commuters do, and right now, I am one of them. Oh yes, I am. Almost every single day now, I go outside to start my car – I am always late because I think that it will take me 15-20 minutes to get ready to go and it always takes me a half hour. You can set your clock by this.

And often, my car is covered with ice and snow. Bummer. I can usually get Pete to give me an assist when the roads are icy. He’s also a commuter. He commutes to the college and back, three days a week. He drops me off at the former banquet room of the historic Eagle Hotel. Going in, once I get going, is not so bad. The tough part in the winter is coming home.

I hate driving in the dark. I absolutely hate it. I head in the direction of Sutton, which has less traffic than the other way, which is in the direction of Wasilla. Those doing this commute must travel on the Palmer-Wasilla Highway or Bogart Road. These thoroughfares and they are thoroughfares, are heavily trafficked. I hope to never, ever travel on either of them at night.

I will spare you readers the details of the homeward commute, suffice to say that I have a hard time with the glare from the headlights of cars coming from the other direction. The cars lights are blinding -- I look down at the far white line and when the car in the opposite lane passes, swear loudly and sometimes thump my hands on the steering wheel.

The worst part of all is the loss of visibility. The wind sometimes blows hard on the Glenn Highway, particularly near the overlook. I have timed it well – I pay attention to the weather and if the wind is blowing strong, I take a ride into the hotel with Pete.

I once read that some are pushers and some are pullers. Pushers push on the steering wheel when they drive, and pullers pull on the steering wheel. This was supposed to indicate something about the driver’s respective personalities – me, I push.

There are now cars out there in which the machine does the driving, making the driver the passenger. I think this would be like being in an airplane. The loss of control would, as it does when I fly, make me feel nervous. Who’s to say that the car is going to see the car in the opposite lane and hit it?

Indeed, my life continues to be fraught with peril, particularly when I am in commuter mode.

Next: 30. 1/30/26: Keep Moving