Financial Advantage w/ Douglas Marion
- The Financial Advantage
On Today’s Episode
Attempting to drive through Cornelius traffic. If you ever drove through Cornelius with your sanity intact to tell the tale without developing a nervous twitch or a hoarse voice, you have the patience of a Zen Master or consider yourself plain old lucky.
Let’s talk about the crown jewel of our traffic evolution: the Diamond Crossing Bridge Configuration.,(thing) Designed with the promise of easing congestion and flowing like a dream, what we actually got was something resembling a NASCAR warm-up lap with more confusion and less speed. The name alone suggests elegance and innovation; it was supposed to make traffic move like a symphony. In reality? It’s like giving a kazoo to a toddler and expecting Mozart.
Picture this: the light turns green, and a wave of hope floods your chest. “This is it,” you think. “Progress!” But then—wait for it—the car in front of you stops. In. The. Middle. Of. The. Intersection. Like a deer caught in the LED glow of bad urban planning. It’s as if time itself pauses to mock you. “The diamond was meant to sparkle, but instead, it’s got more visible flaws than your friend’s discount engagement ring from the mall kiosk—and somehow, everyone’s still pretending it’s Fabulous.
And then there’s Catawba Avenue—or as I like to call it, the modern-day version of Frogger. Except instead of frogs dodging pixelated trucks, it’s Mom’s in Range Rovers, determined cyclists swerving like they’re on the Tour de France, and brave souls in golf carts with no plates and no fear. Now let’s throw in the Uber driver trying to do a U-turn by crossing three lanes. And you’re just trying to turn left without writing your will.
And no Cornelius traffic tale is complete without our beloved town mascot: The Old Man with the Blinker. You know the one. He’s been making a left turn since 2003. His blinker is not a signal—it’s a lifestyle. He’s parked in the middle of the road – no rush, no clear direction – just vibing. You don’t honk. You pray —Dear Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change—and the strength not to follow him home and find out he’s my neighbor.
Adding to this Netflix thriller, Roads Gone Wild, they’re making a roundabout. Oh, the roundabout. Was it built for efficiency? Probably. Does anyone know how to use it? Absolutely not. We enter like confused ants, circling like indecisive shoppers at Target, and exit wherever the Lord wills it.
But Here’s the Thing
Despite the chaos, we love it here. We chose Cornelius. We talk about the traffic as if it’s a shared trauma that bonds us tighter than a neighborhood wine night. We laugh, we wave (with all five fingers… mostly), and we find peace somewhere between the honking and the hoping.
So, the next time you find yourself gridlocked on Catawba, behind a stalled Tesla full of golden retrievers and Pickleball gear, take a breath. You’re home. You’re in Cornelius. And yes, you’re probably going to be late. But at least you’ll have a great story to tell.
Happily, One Paddle Short – but still rowing around the traffic circles of life.
Monica Lucia Hoffman is a published writer, speaker, and chronic over-thinker with a soft spot for sarcasm, strong coffee, and stories that expose the truth behind the Botox. As a certified grief counselor and founder of several women’s groups, Monica combines heart and humor to unpack the real life of suburban women, from tight faces to loose schedules and everything in between. One Paddle Short (But Still Rowing) is her love letter to the chaos, connection, and contradictions of modern sisterhood, Lake Norman style.
