A Morning Drive

I’m driving to work yesterday through rolling country, sipping my cup o’ love/coffee made by the husband, listening to NPR. What a state the world is in right now! Indonesia, with yet another tragedy . . . more killings in Iraq . . . the stock market is dancing the salsa . . . and presidential candidates are elbowing each other for first pla-

SCCCRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECHHHH

The silver CRV coming towards me suddenly turns across my lane – clearly she didn’t see me. There are cars behind her, cars behind me, and cars in the cross-road that she was turning into, so I have no where to go, and at 55 mph that is a bad situation to be in. I wrench the wheel to the right and sail off the road, into a long stretch of yard. An experimental wiggle of the wheel to the left tells me that trying to right myself will flip me over, so I just commit to plowing through this man’s grass. As I tap the breaks, I have to make a choice – do I run into the electric pole to my left, the gnarled enormous tree on my right, or the pole fence that runs between them? Clearly, the fence is the winner, so I wrestle the wheel into that direction and keep tapping the breaks, hoping the mud will help me slow down. I stop with a thump, a comforting 3 yards from the fence, and up to mud mid-wheel.

Breathe in, breathe out. In, out. In, out.

I reach for my phone to call work, and my arm is just shaking like crazy. From road to fence was about 5 seconds, and in that 5 seconds enough adrenaline has pumped into my system to render my limbs useless. I abandon the phone idea, deciding to get out of the car, and open the door to a sea of muddy water and sod. The owner of the CRV is traipsing across the lawn, shouting -Are you OK, I’m sorry, are you OK – and I can’t speak just yet. I trade my sandals for the tennis shoes I keep in my gym bag, and by then she is there at the door. A woman in her sixties, she is kind, apologetic, and relieved I’m ok. I don’t have it in me to be mad.

Together we decide that the car ain’t moving, so she bundles me into her CRV, where her grapes-and-bagel breakfast has scattered and rolled all over the floor. We drive a mile down the road to a farmer she knows, and he and his farmhands kindly take us into a warm barn and call the owner of the wrecked lawn. The farmers get permission to pull me out, and about an hour’s worth of conversation, discussion, and tractor-pulling later, I’m back on the road. Clumps of mud are flying off the car making thunking noises on the undercarriage, but there is no damage.

I was a jumpy driver the rest of the way in. People in the front office knew where I’d been and I got to tell my dramatic story about 5 times over. The guys on the production floor hadn’t heard, though, and at the sight of my car (mud on the windows, the roof, everywhere) they asked me why I thought it was a good idea to take a Matrix 4 wheeling. Har-har. I got caught up in the busy day, and didn’t get home until 8pm, where the Professor was waiting for me. We had a snacky “dinner” of leftover pizza, tomato soup, and chips, and watched Little Miss Sunshine in a comfy bundle on the couch. I worked on a crochet blanket I’m trying to finish.

It could have been a much different ending to the day. Never have I been so thankful for a quiet evening in.  Or for the fact that I tell the Professor I love him every morning when I leave.  I do, darling husband who reads this every day.  I love you!  And I’m so glad that I won’t have a cast on our honeymoon!