Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Every which way but loose

Once upon a time my Magic Man (my late husband) dubbed me “Driveby” and for some strange reason, perhaps because it's so apt, it stuck.  The reason for that nickname was not random acts of violence directed at non-driving MF’ers (because, after all, I have such a sweet disposition ;), but because of my penchant for “driving by” turns or destinations and then having to turn around and go back to them.

This pilot gets along just fine without a co-pilot but by golly I really do NEED a navigator!  Technically, I rarely get lost (except in my thoughts, or in the music, or in the conversation if I’m not alone). It’s not that I can always tell you exactly where I am, but I generally know how to get back to where I was.  I can get from point A to point B,  I’ve driven ¾  of the way across the USA all by my lonesome, but very rarely without having to make at least 1 U-turn or taking an alternate route.

It’s not that I’m not paying attention to the road.  I’m very vigilant about knowing what other vehicles  are around me, and what they’re doing at all times.  I know when somebody changes lanes three cars back.  I don’t often push a yellow light when it can be avoided, I use my turn signals, and I don’t trust that anyone else is necessarily going to use theirs.  I don’t, in fact, trust that the other guy is going to anything the way he’s supposed to. Hey, that’s just self preservation. I used to live in southeastern Kentucky. Yeah, I went there ;)

Somehow though, none of that translates into not having to backtrack.  I’m too into the business of driving to pay attention where I’m going.  Today, though, I think it may have finally paid off.

Ever since she had a head injury when she was young, my best friend sometimes has seizures.  She has cancer now, late stage, and her illness and the medications she’s on just make that worse.  Worse still, she didn’t sleep last night and had a very tense morning.  We were out running errands this afternoon and she felt one coming on and said “Take me home, I’m going to have a seizure”.

It was a route we take 3 or 4 times a week and yet, whoosh, I blew right by the on ramp and had to swing around and come back to it.  I was beating myself up for it because I was trying to hurry.  We did make it back her house before it hit.  I stopped the car, went around to help her out and got about halfway to the porch before she fell out in the grass, taking me with her.  The soft, cushioned grass.  If we had gotten there just a minute or two earlier, if I had not had to turn around to go back to the on ramp we would have probably been on cement porch steps when it came.

Today, I can remember to be thankful for small favors. 

1 comment:

  1. Sally, I suspect that your driving is a metaphor for how a bunch of us live our lives. We are so busy paying attention to the rules of getting there that we miss the destination.