I decide that I don't want anyone to drive me, either, because I have to be at Logan during rush-hour traffic on a weekday morning. I have several options. One of them is to take the commuter rail, transfer subways a few times to get to a shuttle, and fight crowds of people with my suitcase. Another is to leave my car near my house in a parking lot that is notorious for break-ins and pay almost as much for the Flight Line van as it would be to park my car at Central Parking at Logan for several days.
Well ... it could be perfect and would be perfect except that the transportation center is located right off the busy commuter highway, one I used to drive daily to my job in Woburn and swore I would never, ever do again if possible during rush-hour traffic; the very same highway into Boston that I am trying to avoid.
So, I do what any crazy person would do. I map out the back route to the transportation center. Studying the map and routes that I've taken before, I know that there is an easier way. To my joy, I discover that there are probably seven different ways to get there without ever touching the highway nor commuter traffic. I have to wonder, though, am I really going to be saving any time at all?
I decide to get in my car and do the drive myself. I could go down the more traveled routes: 129, 62, 125, 28... Instead, I map out the route that has zero main roads. I cross three of the main routes I am trying to avoid. Each crossing has a traffic signal, making this an easy choice. I drive through back roads, past schools, through neighborhoods, driving parallel to, then crossing, then driving parallel again to the giant commuter clusterfuck that is route 93, never once having to actually drive ON it. The only part of the trip that seems remotely populated is the industrial park I must drive through in order to access the transportation center. It is the only choice in order to avoid the highway. Eleven miles and twenty-five minutes later, I arrive at the transportation center, scope out the long-term lot, see the Logan Express bus I will be taking (well, maybe not that exact one, but one just like it), then begin the reverse process. The ride home is equally serene, often deserted. All this, and I only have to turn twice once I leave my town's limits (three times if I count entering the station's driveway).
I like driving into Boston and Logan (once I mastered all of the quirks), and the drive is surprisingly easy to maneuver if one is extraordinarily adept at multiple lane changes in sixty-mile-per-hour, bumper-to-bumper, NASCAR-like traffic. Sometimes, though, it's nice to leave the breakneck, stressful, nerve-wracking driving to someone else.
