Peanuts, Petrol, and the Long Way Home

~ MMC 2.0

A nostalgic revisit to my daily desert commute… now with humour, hindsight, and fewer yawns.

Ten minutes after landing in Abu Dhabi, I’m back on the road that once defined my weekdays.

We’re heading toward Dubai, and I’m not behind the wheel this time… but my brain is already shifting gears, cruising straight into memory lane.

It’s been ten years since I last did this commute for real. Ten years since I was part of that daily dance between Dubai and Abu Dhabi, zipping across the desert like it was just a regular thing people do… because, well, it was.

For five years, I drove this stretch almost every day. Week in, week out. Morning and night. Occasionally during hours that shouldn’t legally exist on a clock.

And now? I’m just a visitor.

No longer running on deadlines or dashboard prayers.

Just me and my thoughts. And strangely enough, I’m smiling.

Because this used to be my road.

Back then, mornings were the better half of the equation. The traffic moved fast, everyone had coffee and purpose in their veins, and there was something comforting about watching the sunrise paint the highway gold. I’d slip into the flow of cars gliding down the highway like a corporate migration ritual.

My playlist was upbeat, my mind sharp, and my tie… usually… on straight.

But oh, the return journey.

That’s when the romance died.

Most nights, I left Abu Dhabi late. Not “just past working hours” late, but the kind of late where office buildings hum and security guards start knowing you by name…

I’d pull into the same Adnoc petrol station, half-zombie, half-Excel sheet… and immediately hit the same routine: fill up the tank, grab a coffee strong enough to melt stress, and buy a giant bag of salted peanuts.

That peanut pack? A lifesaver. One hand on the wheel, the other blind-diving into the packet like a snack-seeking missile.

There’s a particular crunch to peanuts that keeps you awake. Combine that with strong coffee and low-volume FM radio, and you’ve got yourself a survival kit for the soul.

Those night drives were long, sometimes lonely, but weirdly therapeutic. I talked to myself more than I should admit. I made major life decisions that I unmade the next morning.

And somewhere between kilometre 73 and 90, when my peanuts and coffee got over…  I always had a fleeting thought about moving closer to work…

I never did.

But I did keep driving.

And now, here I am. A decade older. A visitor in the country that once held my daily grind.

The road hasn’t changed much… but I have.

No coffee in hand, no peanuts in the glovebox, no urgent Monday meeting to brace for. Just a calm, smooth ride… and the strange comfort of remembering how far I’ve come.

There’s something funny about old commutes. While you’re in them, they’re just routine. Tiresome. Necessary.

But give it time, and they start to look a lot like personal epics. Full of small heroics and quiet resilience. A thousand little moments you barely noticed then, now strung together like pearls of hindsight.

This time, there’s no rush. No tension in my shoulders. I can look at this road not as something to conquer, but something that once carried me… sometimes gently, sometimes with a jolt and a screaming horn from the lane next to mine.

And that, honestly, feels like a win.

Because here’s the thing: we don’t always realise we’re living the stories we’ll someday look back on with a strange fondness. That half-asleep coffee run, that drive where the only thing keeping you awake was peanuts and panic… that was a chapter. One of the real ones.

So as I sit in the passenger seat now… older, calmer, and slightly better moisturised… I can finally enjoy the view. I can laugh at the stress, salute the stubbornness, and appreciate the version of me who kept showing up.

Turns out, the road wasn’t just taking me to work.


It was quietly turning me into someone who could look back… and smile.

Unknown's avatar

Published by MMC 2.0

Mohan Mathew Chacko is a multi-disciplinary freelance writer and one who runs the WORDSOUPS blog as if it’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened in the storytelling blogging world. From the time when he survived a near-death situation on a surgeon’s table, he considers this his second life and believes he is now a better version of his previous self. Nowadays he likes to be known as MMC 2.0 though no one else seems to care.

20 thoughts on “Peanuts, Petrol, and the Long Way Home”

  1. You captured the whole essence of UAE driving in the day and night. Especially the traffic / lack of traffic and the sheer loneliness. Brought up a lot of old memories. Dubai Sharjah , Abu Dhabi Dubai and Abu Dhabi Fujairah office trips. Thanks MMC. Nostalgia tear drops and a smile.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  2. “something comforting about watching the sunrise paint the highway gold” This whole piece is utterly delightful! “strung together like pearls of hindsight.” I couldn’t get enough. I was right there with you, in the optimism of the mornings, in the strained wee hours, in the distance from home. Totally engaging, and a superb perspective on how our day-to-day experience can enrich our lives. (And perfect title, too! :-) )

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thank you so much for this beautiful comment, it means the world! 🙏You picked out the exact moments I loved writing most. It’s amazing how something as routine as a daily drive can become a quiet chapter of growth when we look back. Thanks again for reading so deeply and sharing this lovely reflection!

      Liked by 1 person

  4. This post is a reminder that time doesn’t just pass, it polishes. What was once a desert of deadlines has become an oasis of insight, and here’s why your words hit home:
    That Adnoc pit stop is now a monument to the version of you who turned exhaustion into endurance.
    The “commuter’s uniform” (tie askew, soul caffeinated) now hangs in the museum of your growth.
    Those night drives did more than transport you between cities—they moved you toward selfhood. The road that carried you also carved you.
    This isn’t just a post; it’s a postcard from the future, sent to your past self. And the message is clear: Keep driving. The view gets better.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Wow. This is more than a comment, it’s a masterstroke. You didn’t just read between the lines, you traveled through them.
      I’m genuinely moved by how you elevated what I wrote into something richer, deeper.
      Thank you for reading, reflecting, and responding with such poetic clarity.🙏

      Like

  5. What a beautiful reflection on the passage of time and the quiet heroism of daily life! Your article brought back memories of your Yamaha 350 rides in Cochin—those carefree days when the wind and the open road were all that mattered. Just like your Abu Dhabi-Dubai commute, those drives were more than just journeys; they were chapters in your story, shaping you in ways you only appreciate later.

    I love how you have connected the present to the past with such warmth and humour. There is something special about revisiting old routines and realizing how much they meant, not because of where they were taking you, but because of who you were becoming along the way. And you’re right, some memories are best enjoyed just as they are, without linking them to the future. The past has its own magic, and your writing captures that perfectly. Thanks for sharing this—it’s a wonderful reminder to smile at the roads we have travelled, both literal and emotional.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thank you so much for this beautiful and thoughtful comment. 🙏
      You’ve captured the spirit of the piece better than I could’ve hoped,and I’m moved by how the memories resonated with you. It’s a quiet joy, isn’t it, to look back and realize how our journeys were shaping something lasting within us.🙏

      Like

    1. I’m so glad this spoke to you! You’ve put it beautifully… time really does have a way of reshaping how we see things, often softening the edges. Thank you for reading and for this lovely reflection!🙏

      Liked by 1 person

  7. I had commuting experiences similar to yours. Not in UAE but in America. It lasted about 18 years and through seasonally changing landscape of Southern California. Initially it was gruesome but as time went on I discovered a time pass called “books on tapes”. It was a game changer. I enjoyed my commutes then on. I probably read(heard) more books than ever before. Thanks to a company called “The teaching company” that produced CDs on all topics under the sun. Now after almost 20 years into retirement, I am still influenced by those electronic sound bites. Most of my current thought processes are extensions of what I heard at that time. I do traverse parts of that commute nowadays mostly in the passenger seat providing traffic avoidance strategies and insights in to commonly unknown short cuts. It is some kind of nostalgia. 

    PS. Teaching company just announced that they are discontinuing CDs and moving on to better media distribution methods

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. What a wonderful note, thank you for sharing it. I love how your commuting journey evolved into something unexpectedly enriching.
      There’s a quiet poetry in revisiting old routes not as a commuter but as a guide, both literally and philosophically.🙏

      Like

Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Share your perspective in the comments below and let’s keep the conversation going!