I travel on Route 8 twice a day… in the morning coming either from Derby or Woodbury, and my return in the evening from Norwalk. Ride a road every day and you get to know the ups & the downs, the curves and where the gendarmes lay in ambush.
The landscape and sights become familiar, too. And the stretch just South of Seymour (Exit 13) running to the Merritt Parkway is just a pretty piece of road. No homes or commercial strips can be seen from the road… just thick stacks of trees and rock formations that line either side of the lanes and fill the generous grass covered island that separates the Northbound from the Southbound.
It’s a fast road, too. Great lines of sight. A joy to drive. Particularly if you’re looking to get from point “A” to “B” in a hurry. Just like I was this morning.
But even in a hurry I had to pause to notice something. It was a timing thing. It was early in the morning and I was cruising in the porsche, making 80mph, headed South on 8… That is the pace of the traffic at that hour, by the by… lotta vans, small trucks and cars intent on getting there quickly.
I reached a point in the road, a clear straight away, some two miles North of the Merritt when I first took notice of the evidence of the sun. From that spot the sun itself was well below tree level; but ahead I could see the deep green of the tree tops being touched by the sun…
It appeared like only select leaves were being lit by the new day; the rest of the landscape remained in early morning shade. As I approached I could now see the effect of the sun’s powerful path as it reflected on the windows, side mirrors and chrome of the vehicles ahead.
Then it happened… Route 8 briefly alters its Southward course, and pivots to the West putting the sun, now breaking up from the tree line in the East, squarely in my rear window. It was blinding. The entire road exploded in its light. A yellow glow that had a remarkable blue morning cast.
It’s 5:27AM on June 12. I was in perfect position, on a perfect length of road, to greet the new day… soaked in the sun, seconds either way and I would have missed it.
Sometimes you get lucky. Timing is a tricky thing, you know. Ask the architects of Stonehenge how hard it is to plan on the movement of sun and moon.
But I tell you what… come June 12, 2007 @ 5:27AM (give or take 15 seconds), I know where I’ll be.