Here In The Meadowlands, Where The Mosquitoes Grow Big As Airplanes

Like many things in my life, my relationship with the Garden State Parkway is a complicated one.  On one hand, I hate it.  Like, with the type of burning, fiery, passionate hatred people reserve for the leaders of the opposite political party.  Everybody knows about it, so everybody takes it, so it takes approximately thirty seconds for it to get snarled up in what seems like endless miles of slow moving traffic.  All it takes to fuck the Parkway up for days is a car on the side of the road with their flashers on – everybody wants to slow down and check it out, which spirals into a five mile long stretch of everybody driving five miles an hour faster than Rush Limbaugh’s face can ruin a ladyboner.  Add to this the fact that I live (shudder) “Down the Shore” (it’s the beach, fuck you), and you’ve got a stretch of roadway that doubles if not triples in population during the warmer months – i.e. the best goddamn driving months, you animals!  All I want to do is take a nice windows down cruise to dry off and de-sand after the beach, and I can’t, because these bimbos want to invade my personal space.  So, I’ve had some pretty terrible moments on the Parkway, as I’m sure we all have.  We’ve all had cause to curse the moment the asphalt was laid, and have.  But I can’t say out and out that I hate the Parkway one hundred percent, all the time.

Because seriously, as a born and bred Jersey girl, I do love the Parkway.  It’s a part of our soul, a part of our state.  At the end of a night hanging out with my family or friends back in my hometown, the Parkway is legitimately the fastest (assuming no traffic!) and most comfortable way for me to get back to my apartment.  It’s probably the best cruising road around, relatively straight and easy to hop on and off at any given town, so you can easily control the length of your drive.  And, come on, let’s be honest with each other for a minute: There is literally nothing better than flying over the Driscoll bridge hardcore jamming out to Rosalita playing at the top volume my shitty speakers can handle, Central Jersey spread out before me like my kingdom.  The Garden State Parkway is a part of my life, my history, my identity in a way that I can’t explain and don’t think anyone outside of Jersey could ever understand – even some people within Jersey don’t understand it.

I just wish it was a locals only road.


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