During my old commute, I would drive a short way down Beach Drive. Beach is a winding road that traverses Rock Creek Park, 10 miles or so of lush forest that goes from Washington, DC to a street very close to my house. In the early mornings I sometimes see deer lurking in the brush on the side of the road, and in the afternoons bicyclists seem to think that they have the right of way (they travel in packs). I also see the same Metro commuters walking from Grosvenor Station back to their houses.
On one of my last days, I was driving through the morning mist when I saw a Metro commuter cross the road in front of me. I thought it was a bit strange that I'd never seen him before, but I figured that he might have left earlier than usual. Before my car drew level with him, he disappeared into the woods on the other side of the road. Bemused, I tried to find him in the woods as I drove past, but all I saw was a small path leading through the underbrush.
I enjoyed imagining deer and commuters sharing the same paths every morning, and then I turned off of Beach and entered the Beltway, where no one shares the same path happily.
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I remember riding my bike from Silver Spring all the way to the National Zoo along Beach Drive, as a girl. It really is a lush retreat from the city.
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