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Doctor recommended for optimal cerebral hygiene 


Sunday, August 22, 2004

at this point i lose all composure and break down in tears. given the fact that i never cry, naturally people rush up and clamor about me.

they don't know how close they were to clamoring about me, instead, at my funeral.

before i go on, it's important that you know that i'm not prone to fits of drama-queenishness. i'm more prone to stoicnicity and stiff-upper-lipicity.

so when a come-apart happens, it's generally genuine.

i had planned to begin posting to this blog weeks ago. but a cross-country move and two cross-country drives intervened, and my priorities were rearranged.

while on the second cross-country trip, driving my car from north carolina to seattle, i encountered a rogue thunderstorm in eastern colorado. mid-storm my car hydroplaned from the fast lane to the ditch.

i went from 70-to-zero with freakish quickness. in the process i crossed three lanes, two medians and a barb-wire fence. my car and i performed two complete 360s. i had enough chances to roll/flip/invert for a lengthy x-treme driving highlight package.

dale earnhardt died in a car-related event that seemed innocuous by comparison. the young woman who stopped to check on me said, "it looked like you were flying."

and yet.

my car and i did not flip. we were not broadsided by oncoming traffic. we did not smash into a guard rail.

instead, we nestled into a field of tall, lush weeds, which acted as a crash stunt cushion. the car was bruised, but not seriously. and i was completely unscathed. not so much as a heart murmer.

within an hour or so ford roadside assistance sent a truck to pull me back onto the road. after a brief period of uncertainty, the auto proved completely mobile.

and while my driving was temporarily more conservative, i've since resumed my regular road demeanor.

fact is, the crying jag mentioned above never actually happened. but it seems like it should have, doesn't it? better people than i have died or been maimed with far less provocation. my illusion of control was nonchalantly snatched away, shredded, and returned to me. any or all of these disconcerting events would warrant some introspective wailing and metaphorical wringing of hands, don'tcha think?

apparently not.

carry on.