Ploafmaster General

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Starting (over) small.

I wouldn't exactly consider myself to have OCD, but I'm certainly a man of quirky routines. It's not always about the comfort of familiarity, either. Often, for me, it's about creating a process. Once I have my process, I can improve and compete against my own past performance. This silly business allows me to turn mundane portions of my day into games and minor achievements.

All of this to say that one of my main routines is the drive back from class (I'm still a graduate student) to the house twice a week. I'm not the type to require a lot of "me" time, but this semi-weekly trip is about right for my needs, so I stretch it out by taking a slightly longer route than necessary. I get enough time to hear an extra song or two, think over whatever's coursing through my head, and decompress from a long day of work and school. Most of the "game" portion of this routine comes from trying to beat traffic signals, make it off the line faster than my neighbor in the next lane, and time my braking/downshifting so that I infrequently come to a complete stop. I assure you I do this within the bounds of posted speed limits and I always use my turn signals.

The latter stage of this drive takes me down Overbrook Rd. underneath Interstate 95. The weather has finally come down from its woeful high temperatures so I've been comfortable driving home with the windows down for the first time in recent memory. So I'm driving along Overbrook as usual and head underneath I-95 where I smelled the familiar stink of city-provided hydrocarbon.

Overpass gas.