There is a stretch of northbound 101 during the morning commute where the traffic slows to a crawl. It sits between Redwood City and Bair Island, wetlands protected by law against encroaching real-estate development. It would be nice to think that the drivers are nature lovers who slow down to look at the ducks, but the reality is due to backed-up traffic from the San Mateo Bridge exit about five miles up ahead.

The slowing of the bus snaps me back from wherever my mind had wandered during the last half hour or so. I find myself paying attention even though I don’t have to. There is a driver for that and he is good at his job. He might be a generally good person as well, or perhaps he is a vile brute with a nightly ritual of chugging Jack Daniels and beating his wife and kids. I really have no idea and as long as he’s not violent behind the wheel, I don’t much care.