Close call
I almost didn't want to write this post because, as you'll see in a moment, I'm still trying to decide whether the following situation is worth giving a second thought. But maybe writing about it will help me figure that out.
I have a standing Thursday dinner date at my grandparents. As I was pulling out of my driveway to head to their place, which is just across town, my phone rang. I picked it up and struck up a conversation with my friend Dave, who was on the other end. I hadn't had a chance to fasten my seatbelt, but didn't give it much thought because of the short drive (dark clouds on the horizon). It's actually unusual for me to drive without a seatbelt; I find that I feel vulnerable, almost naked, without it.
A half mile from my grandparents' house, I pulled up to a four way stop, still seatbeltless and still talking to Dave on my cell phone (we were discussing what we liked about Capote and Good Night, and Good Luck). As I began to turn left, a car suddenly flew across my field of vision, a few feet beyond my front bumper. Seemingly out of sequence, a split second later I heard the squeal of tires and the sound of my own horn. The other car came to rest on the shoulder on the opposite side of the intersection, while I stopped, stunned, in the middle of the intersection, exchanging a frightened glance with a woman in a car across the way.
The guy got out of his car and walked halfway toward me with his arms in the air, as if I were the one in the wrong. I rolled my window down and said, "There's a stop sign there. It's a four way stop." He arms fell to his sides, his posture became sheepish.
Obviously, I was shaken up by this little incident. I've been trying to put it out of my mind, but it's been difficult. I don't want to think of it as anything more than a close call, but I've been tempted to look for meaning. I'm being ridiculous, I know. But I can't help being freaked out.
Thankfully I've got an outlet for my crazy mental machinations. I think this post and a few glasses of sangria later on tonight will be all the therapy I need.
I have a standing Thursday dinner date at my grandparents. As I was pulling out of my driveway to head to their place, which is just across town, my phone rang. I picked it up and struck up a conversation with my friend Dave, who was on the other end. I hadn't had a chance to fasten my seatbelt, but didn't give it much thought because of the short drive (dark clouds on the horizon). It's actually unusual for me to drive without a seatbelt; I find that I feel vulnerable, almost naked, without it.
A half mile from my grandparents' house, I pulled up to a four way stop, still seatbeltless and still talking to Dave on my cell phone (we were discussing what we liked about Capote and Good Night, and Good Luck). As I began to turn left, a car suddenly flew across my field of vision, a few feet beyond my front bumper. Seemingly out of sequence, a split second later I heard the squeal of tires and the sound of my own horn. The other car came to rest on the shoulder on the opposite side of the intersection, while I stopped, stunned, in the middle of the intersection, exchanging a frightened glance with a woman in a car across the way.
The guy got out of his car and walked halfway toward me with his arms in the air, as if I were the one in the wrong. I rolled my window down and said, "There's a stop sign there. It's a four way stop." He arms fell to his sides, his posture became sheepish.
Obviously, I was shaken up by this little incident. I've been trying to put it out of my mind, but it's been difficult. I don't want to think of it as anything more than a close call, but I've been tempted to look for meaning. I'm being ridiculous, I know. But I can't help being freaked out.
Thankfully I've got an outlet for my crazy mental machinations. I think this post and a few glasses of sangria later on tonight will be all the therapy I need.
posted by temporarily unemployed at 20:29
2 Comments:
but you drank margs, you boozehound you.
~C
when shit almost happens, it really puts things in perspective.
glad you're okay, dude.
-rob
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