Portlander Stops And Goes On Deserted I-5, Just For Old Times’ Sake

Seventeen years ago, Jeremy Holzman moved out of his cramped SE Portland apartment and into a home on a quiet street in Tigard. His domestic tranquility came at a price, in the form of hellacious weekday traffic going to and from his downtown Portland office. Over the course of nearly two decades, he became inured to the gridlock – indeed, it had stitched itself into the very fiber of his soul. ⁣
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But then the pandemic hit, and for the first time since Linkin Park released Meteora, Jeremy Holzman wasn’t spending time in traffic. It took a toll on him mentally, physically and spiritually. A stitch had come loose in his soul. He knew what he needed to do.⁣
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Holzman got in his sedan and drove up I-5 Northbound. There was hardly a car in sight. As he rounded the Terwilliger curves, he slowed down to five miles per hour, then stopped his car entirely for a few seconds. He lurched forward, then stopped again. He was overcome with nostalgic glee. He rolled down his window and shouted into the abyss, “Go back to Berkeley, you fucking transplant!“⁣
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Smiling warmly, Holzman felt a much needed sense of normalcy. He was home.⁣