Such a Nice Bad Day…

Today I rear-ended a man’s van or car or something on my way back to Athens on Route 7 from my weekly visit to take Mandy out to lunch. I don’t believe he had his rear or turn lights on because surely I would have noticed him sooner than I did. That’s another way of saying I totalled my car. He was making a left turn into his driveway or something. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t start my car afterwards to get off the road. I asked the policeman* why my car wouldn’t start, and he said, “You haven’t looked at the front of your car, have you?”  I was also without my cell phone or phone book.

GOOD THING:  had my seatbelt on, so am alive, walking, talking and blogging. Also had my up to date drivers license with me.

The policeman* asked if I knew where I was, what the date was, and what road I was on..

GOOD THING:   I came up with three correct answers

The policeman asked me how I was feeling

GOOD THING:  I said “sad.”

The closest towing company was 3/4 hour away, in the opposite direction of my goal: Athens.

GOOD THING:  People asked if I was okay and the tow truck man drove me about 5 miles closer to Athens and then used his cell phone in a series of calls to friends in Athens, to no  avail. He said his mother-in-law lived very nearby, and he drove us  there and I was given a heavenly piece of fruit cake his mother-in-law had baked. 

I had a lot of junk in my car, much of it for Re-Use Industries. I was still stranded 45 minutes from Athens, with no local taxi or bus service. In the [now] dark I temporarily misplaced my credit card and condo key

GOOD THING:  Found my credit card and condo key in the dark. Using his cell phone, he found an Athens cab company that would be willing to get me and accept a credit card.  The tow truck driver had a handy very heavy-duty bag for retrieving things from my wrecked car.  He had gotten another call so couldn’t wait with me (at his mother-in-laws) for the cab to arrive. He maintained contact with the cab company, however, so there wasn’t a missed connection. The cab driver loaded things into his cab and when we arrived at my place unloaded them.

I slipped and fell down a muddy hillet going to my door, When I fell I just lay there a minute, collecting myself.  I think he feared I might be unconscious but I assured him I was just “resting.”  I rode my bottom part of the rest of the way.

GOOD THING:  The cab driver didn’t squawk over a $2 tip, then took the rest of my things down the hillet to my front door; last, he opened my walker so I could make it to the very bottom of the hillet.  

That’s why I feel so good about a bad day.

P.S. In case you think I’m uncaring, the man’s van was sill running, he said he thought his neck hurt, and EMS took him away.  A child and a large dog were unhurt. At one point he got out of his van on his own.

*Probably state trooper

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
This entry was posted in A mixed bag, Hanging in there and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Such a Nice Bad Day…

  1. Frank Hubeny says:

    Sorry to hear about the accident, but I am glad to hear about all the good things as well.

    Like

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