Tuesday, January 11, 2005
True Confession Time
I have never been the greatest driver. When I was in high school, I nearly got detention for accidentally driving over the school’s front lawn in my ‘95 Neon. The only thing that saved me was the parking lot attendant’s inability to spell my cumbersome last name. I once tried to devise a system for reading while I was driving, which predictably ended in yet another lawn trip, this time thankfully my own. And when I was only sixteen, I infamously got ticketed for going over 100 in a 65 zone, thinking that shaving a few minutes off my 10-minute commute home might make up for being over 4 hours late for my curfew. The police, and there were three squad cars involved in my eventual stop, thought I was A) high and B) trying to flee the jurisdiction. There was a body cavity search involved.
All this comes to mind because last night I was nearly involved in a traffic fatality yet again. First, I went to pick a friend up from the train station, and got stuck in the middle of a cluster of cabs. Because cab drivers are always the very embodiment of even-temperedness and reason, this resulted in extended episodes of high-decibel honking and lots of helpful suggestions for body parts that might be stuck in other body parts, some of which I had admittedly never even considered. My solution to this quandary was perhaps no better, however, for I rapidly tore away from the station and turned the wrong way down a one-way street. Some flashed lights, a lot of screaming, and one huge u-turn later, I was back on my way home, and considering the purchase of a bike. But then again, my childhood Schwinn once pulled off half my skin and threw me down a hill. I guess I’ll just have to keep waiting for those Hoverboards to be real.
I have never been the greatest driver. When I was in high school, I nearly got detention for accidentally driving over the school’s front lawn in my ‘95 Neon. The only thing that saved me was the parking lot attendant’s inability to spell my cumbersome last name. I once tried to devise a system for reading while I was driving, which predictably ended in yet another lawn trip, this time thankfully my own. And when I was only sixteen, I infamously got ticketed for going over 100 in a 65 zone, thinking that shaving a few minutes off my 10-minute commute home might make up for being over 4 hours late for my curfew. The police, and there were three squad cars involved in my eventual stop, thought I was A) high and B) trying to flee the jurisdiction. There was a body cavity search involved.
All this comes to mind because last night I was nearly involved in a traffic fatality yet again. First, I went to pick a friend up from the train station, and got stuck in the middle of a cluster of cabs. Because cab drivers are always the very embodiment of even-temperedness and reason, this resulted in extended episodes of high-decibel honking and lots of helpful suggestions for body parts that might be stuck in other body parts, some of which I had admittedly never even considered. My solution to this quandary was perhaps no better, however, for I rapidly tore away from the station and turned the wrong way down a one-way street. Some flashed lights, a lot of screaming, and one huge u-turn later, I was back on my way home, and considering the purchase of a bike. But then again, my childhood Schwinn once pulled off half my skin and threw me down a hill. I guess I’ll just have to keep waiting for those Hoverboards to be real.
