It’s been a week now but every time I drive to work I have a minor PTSD flashback to the incident I think you should become familiar with.
With the first full-fledged snow storm of the year causing traffic delays all over the city I awoke to the happy reality that I live 5 minutes from work. Sure, no plows were working to clear my parking structure but I could manage the snowdrifts without a mountain guide. I trudged up the poorly constructed wooden stairway to my covered parking space, my feet sinking 8-10 inches in fresh snow. Twice my foot met a slick surprise at the bottom of the fresh footprint. I should have paid attention to this foreshadowing as I started up my car and waited for the seat heaters to kick in.
Opting for 2nd gear instead of D(rive) I started my egress from my parking stall and headed down the incline to the street out front. The crunchy snow quickly turned from the fresh, virginal stuff in my drive to the dirty, mulled over, slush that was turned over by brave commuters trying to get to work earlier than I. With a few taps of the accelerator I made my tepid approach up the hill to South Temple. It was a slippery slope to the intersection but it was timed with a green light so I wouldn’t have to pray to the commuter gods in order to prevent my pending backslide down the hill.
As I got up to speed (a brisk 9 mph) I was passed by a new Audi SUV that was oblivious to the road conditions or any cars around them. No plates, no clue, no problem letting them speed pass me to their soon-to-be-realized accident. A cycle began to develop. I would meet this SUV again and again at every red light, very tortoise and hare. As I passed the elementary school heading up South Temple at a reduced speed of 4-5 mph my car did something it hadn’t done in a long time.
I was drifting.
I was drifting towards that damn Audi at a speed that made the entire situation a living slow-motion movie moment. The world slowed, my senses heightened, and I had time to realize that I was about to have a morning interrupted by a car crash – my own! More importantly, the slow pace of my vehicular triple lutz gave way to the reality that this was going to take place to the tune of the B-52’s song: Love Shack. My mind raced faster than normal and I actually tapped the button on my steering wheel to change the station.
I refused to have such a pivotal moment in my life feature that song.
To my dismay, as this Tokyo Drift inspired collision progressed, the radio did not provide a tune that fit the situation. The 2nd option was “I just died in your arms tonight” by Cutting Crew – this was awful, didn’t the DJ’s know that it was morning and I had no intentions of dying and there were no other arms around except mine?!
My thumb tapped the radio control button on the steering wheel again.
I named the third tune in less than a second – it was that awful “Christmas Shoes” song. It sent shivers up my spine and I tapped a third time. Of course it was a car commercial for the car dealer that sold me my car (I hate them). NEXT! Morning DJ’s. Next!
My power slide continued through this 8-second delirium. The Audi found traction and cleared the way for me to head right into the curb (thanks lady). In the back of my mind I heard the words of that fighter pilot from Star Wars (you know, when they are flying into the gully’s on the Death Star to blow the thing up). “Stay on target, stay on target” (that’s when the guy gets nailed and explodes in the vacuum of space – fitting, isn’t it?).
By now my foot wasn’t anywhere near the accelerator or the brake. I was on my own personal cruise with a panoramic view. Here I was, moments away from hearing that noise – the one where you know it’s going to be expensive (even with insurance). I looked in my rearview with a glance that tried to convey my apology for the traffic jam I was about to cause. I envisioned how I was about to become ‘that’ guy on the side of the road. Yes! That guy.
My thumb desperately tapped one last time as if I were on the old game show “Press Your Luck”
….no whammy, no whammy, no whammy…stop….“Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin rooof. Rusted!”
I had no other choice but to accept that the B-52’s were destined to be intertwined in my morning. I slouched my shoulders and braced for the geriatric-paced collision that was my life that morning. My eyes rolled almost as much as my tires in their uncontrollable trajectory.
Just as the song geared up for one last chorus my tires gained traction. My steering wheel jerked in my hands. I tensed up, forgot the last 10 seconds of my life and was on my way once more. As I approached the light at 1300 East I slotted in next to that Audi yet again. The light turned green, the song came to an end, and I turned off the radio so the moment would be ingrained in my mind – just like it is in your mind now.
True Story.
No comments:
Post a Comment