Welcome to I-35: Austin’s Mad Max Trench Run

Where the lanes don’t matter, the trucks don’t blink, and your sanity is optional

Buckle Up, Buttercup

Welcome, traveler, to the chaos corridor.

A stretch of asphalt so cursed, so apocalyptically absurd,

it makes Dante’s inferno look like a scenic bike trail.

This is Interstate 35 through Austin—

the Mad Max aorta of Texas highways,

pulsing with rage, regret, and the occasional flaming Nissan Altima.

We don’t drive it because we love it.

We drive it because we must.

Like Frodo with the ring.

Like Indiana Jones with snakes.

Like your cat when it knocks over your coffee.

It’s destiny, with a dash of doom.

Endless Construction: The Orange Cones and barrier walls of Forever

There are places on Earth untouched by man.

And then there is I-35, which has only been touched by man,

specifically, men in hard hats with jackhammers

who vanish for weeks

but leave cones behind like breadcrumbs of despair.

And the walls. Oh, the walls—

towering cement barrier walls that rise like tombstones of sanity,

hemming you in with all the warmth of a prison yard.

No shoulders. No exits.

Just narrow lanes and the creeping sense

that your turn signal means nothing in this realm.

Is the construction ever done?

Is it even construction anymore,

or just performance art sponsored by TxDOT?

The 18-Wheelers: Titans of the Highway

Behold, the majestic semi-truck:

wide as a barn, tall as your mortgage,

and always ready to merge into your lane

without so much as a blinker or a glance.

They are the elephants of the freeway jungle.

They move in herds, slow on the incline,

but vengeful on the downhill.

If you’re lucky, you’ll only get boxed in by three.

Poetic tip: Don’t fight the truck.

Become one with the truck.

Or get ye to the frontage road, mortal.

Construction Vehicles: The Real Kings of the Road

Bulldozers. Backhoes. Construction trucks of all shapes and absurd sizes,

each one bristling with ladders like medals of military rank,

hauling trailers full of mysterious cargo—rocks, rebar, or possibly regrets.

They pull out into traffic with the swagger of diplomatic immunity.

You could honk, but they wouldn’t hear you

over the symphony of diesel dominance and your own quiet weeping.

The Trench Run: Austin Edition

Remember that scene in Star Wars—the Death Star trench run?

Yeah, that’s 35.

Only instead of lasers and Tie Fighters,

you’ve got lifted Dodge Rams, Uber drivers on their third Celsius,

and someone merging from the left with no turn signal and a dream.

Entry ramps?

They’re less “merge zone” and more “YOLO launchers.”

No one’s letting you in.

It’s not personal.

It’s just survival.

A Word to the Two-Wheel Dreamers

Let me say this with love—

If your vehicle has less than four wheels, you have no business being here.

This is not the proving ground for your Vespa’s bravery

or your Harley’s midlife crisis.

And to the sport bike warriors—

we see you, zipping between lanes like caffeinated hornets in yoga pants.

This isn’t Fast & Furious: Austin Drift.

Take your suicidal tendencies

and find a trail, a path, or perhaps a spiritual retreat.

This isn’t the road for you.

This is war.

Traffic: The Crawling Confessional

Sometimes, 35 lets you move.

Most times, it doesn’t.

And in those hours of motionless reflection,

you’ll confront deep truths:

– You should’ve gone before you left.

– The left lane is not fast—it’s just angry.

– The guy in front of you is not brake-checking you,

he just fell asleep at the wheel during the third red light cycle.

If you brought snacks and a podcast,

you may emerge wiser.

If not… may the Gods have mercy on soul.

And Yet, We Return

So why do we do it?

Why do we white-knuckle the wheel

and scream internally as a dump truck drifts into our lane

like it’s performing interpretive dance?

Because we must.

Because I-35 is a rite of passage,

a test of patience, grit, and the strength of your car’s suspension.

Because it’s Austin—and we’ve all made peace with the madness.

Maybe, just maybe,

the real journey was the aggressive lane changes

we made along the way.