SideSwipe—A Cautionary Tale

I was rushing. Running to meet friends for lunch. I’m you. I’m attempting to fit 700 hours of mindless, holiday bullshit (and some fun), into 24.

I was rushing. Running late ( y’all know how I feel about punctuality). I missed one parking spot. The prime one. The meter right in front of the restaurant. Inside my car, there could be heard a string of obscenities mixed with Christmas carols. That’s wrong isn’t it? Sacrilegious somehow. Nevertheless…I circled around in my brand new car, cursing and FaLaLa-ing my way around the block.

Ah Ha!
Success!
A spot down the street with minutes to spare. I stopped, getting into position to parallel park.
As I watched the cars zipping by me, waiting for the opportunity to back into the spot, I could feel my patience leaving me like a leaky balloon.

“Come on, come ooooooooon!”

There was a pedestrian running along the sidewalk eyeballing the street for a break in the traffic and his opportunity to jay-walk.

Meanwhile, for some unknown reason, the traffic in the lane next to me suddenly screeched to a halt. Rushing. We were all rushing somewhere.

That’s when the motorcycle sideswiped my car. My brand new car. The car filled with foul-mouthed impatience. And Michael Buble.

I felt the jostle at the back of the car at the same time I heard the deafening sound of my side-view-mirror exploding right next to my face. Violently. Loudly. A million pieces flying in every direction.

The motorcycle, in order to miss becoming a splat on the back of the car next to me, veered in between us. Except there wasn’t enough room. As her bike got squirrelly—because she was rushing—the left side of my car took the brunt.

The pedestrian hit the deck as a piece of mirror whizzed past his head.

Stunned and in shock, I slowly turned down the radio. In a situation like this Celine Dion singing “This is The Special Time” is definitely NOT the soundtrack you want playing in the background. After checking to make sure the man with the quick reflexes was uninjured,(which we accomplished with a combination of mime and wild, wide-eyed facial expressions), I zipped around the corner to find the motorcyclist.

I had seen her hobble the injured bike onto an adjacent side street where she was now walking in circles, helmet off, obviously shaken up.

I ride motorcycles. I know that fear, that rush of adrenaline that accompanies a close-call.

We hugged. We checked the damage. Mine was moderate. Purely cosmetic.
Hers was minor except for the loss of her handbrakes. That sucked. That left her with unrideable transportation. A bike dead in the water.

We called our husbands. That call sucks ass.
“Hi Babe, Yeah, I had an accident thingy with the car..”
“Are you ok? Is everyone okay?” You can feel the concern.

We exchanged all of the appropriate info. I was late, REALLY late for lunch. She was going to miss work altogether.

Rushing.
We‘re all rushing, rushing, rushing around like headless chickens right now. You can feel it in the energy.
It’s chaotic and buzzy, frantic and fuzzy. We’re distracted. Nobody is looking where they’re going.
I got it. AFTER I received my Universal slap across the face. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but you can bet now we’re BOTH paying attention.

Let’s all Slooooooooow Dooooooown.

The lives we save may be our own.

Carry on,
But not too fast, I want you all around for at least another year!
xox