Traffic is the bane of my existence. My family rarely takes road trips simply because the traffic in this area is insane. It's still spring and I'm not looking forward to fighting the summer tourist traffic to get to my new job.
I normally have a lot of patience until I am stopped in traffic. 10 seconds lasts an eternity when the cars in the next lane are blissfully whizzing past. The joy of speed is relative to how long one has been stopped in traffic. I came to this conclusion after having crept along at a mostly stopped pace, then the way was nearly cleared for me to drive a whopping 30 mph and I felt like cheering a triumphant "in your face cursed Yellow Lines... lookit me go!" It was then I realized I was nearing a pedestrian area.
I did have two bright spots in that 80 minute drive (just a touch longer than my usual 15 minutes). One was getting a lingering look at the field of buttercups near the WWII memorial. The other was the phone call to my boss so he wouldn't wonder why I was late. When he answered his phone, I announced my name (as most people do on a business call), to which he replied, "I'm sorry, who?"