It's more a place defined by what it's not, than what it *is*. Not in the fast lane, not in the slow lane. Everything else? Figure it out. Hell, sometimes on the freeway, there are THREE middle lanes. Tell you the truth, I think most of us are somewhere in there, in those damn middle lanes.

It's not a place that I'm used to, certainly not in driving and it is strange place for my life. I'm a lane weaver, pick out the best route, duck and dodge, gun it and blow by the slow spots in traffic. When it comes to automotive tete a tete, I'm an enthusiastic proponent of the best defense being a good offense. Driver's Education be damned. You can often find me comparing Seattle and LA driving etiquette to a game of sheep and wolves.    

But in life, as of late, the middle lane has been mighty fine.  Not the slow lane, mind you. I don't think I could do that if I tried. I'd implode before becoming satisfied with sitting there; I don't think I could take the stop and go traffic and the waiting for the merge. It's always the slow lane in a big city, and that's very different than out in the sunny countryside.  But in those middle lanes, cruising along somewhere between sleepy and frenzy, soft-serve and white-knuckle, there's a lot of room for the interim. And, I must say, it's tempting. 

So what the hell am I talking about? Crisis of our generation? Trapped in limbo? Yes, and No. It's as simple as the fact that when you don't know what you want, you can't get it. And it's as complicated as wondering about how the hell to figure out what you want in the first place.  In the meantime, try not to waste the time you were given, the opportunities presented, the people and experiences that fate drops in your lap.

I propose this. 

Whenever you have to deal with something you don't like, I see two paths of action. The first is to accept it, and the second is to change it.  In this case, I say we change the problem altogether, and get off the freeway. 

Stop the car. 

Pull out the bike. 

Strap on a helmet (safety first!) and ride. 

Rinse (if you live in Seattle in the Winter).

Repeat. 
I know, it sounds all green hippy or hipster fixie, but it's really all a metaphor for changing your paradigm and reevaluating what's really important for you. It's yet another diatribe about changing your outlook on life, getting out of the rat race that you put yourself in, and reigniting the desire to be yourself, to be an individual, and to hard charge for it with all you've got. 

It wouldn't be anything special or amazing, except this time, this time...it's my life. It's me.  It's where I am and where I've been.  It's realizing that this is the time in my life when I have to make a decision, and make it happen.  It doesn't have to happen right now, it doesn't have to occur right away.

But the decision?  The decision to change my life and walk (or ride) down a different path? 

My decision starts now. 

For all of you out there who are wondering--in this economy, in this changing new bright political landscape, in this world of paradoxically ubiquitous connectivity and separatist suburbanite impersonality- about these same decisions and same internal turmoil...feel free to join me.

Get out on your bike--symbolically, literally, anyway\and change your perspective, grow a pair, join the club, and say hello. 

Get out of the middle lane, get out of the fast lane, get off of the freeway, and reconnect to the things closest to you, the things that you can touch with your hands, the things that a car which you're actually or metaphorically sitting in keeps from tingling on the tips of your fingers. 

This column might help.  I will try to imbue it with the forces of amazingness and wonderment.  I will make up words and jauntily flit around topics that will hopefully be light, airy, and profound. For those of you still reading, I'll settle down soon. Promise. I'm just at a existential crossroads of universal proportions. 

But in the meantime. 

Get out. Don't forget your helmet (safety first.)