Driven to Distraction

While I was making a road trip earlier this week, I almost got run off the road. Minding my own business, a large Ford truck came up beside me, towing a large camping trailer. He was passing slowly (his speed was slightly faster than mine) but I could still see the driver in his passenger-side mirror. So, he passed my Standard Operating Procedure when encountering large vehicles: if I can see the driver, I'm not hanging out in a blind spot.

All this high-minded driving philosophy was made pointless, however, when he decided to come on over into my lane anyway. He was about halfway past me, putting the trailer hitch about equal with my front bumper. I didn't agree with his choice, but I had to respect his mass. I quickly slid my car halfway out of my lane onto the shoulder, meeting the "rumble strip".

For those of you who don't know, the "rumble strip" is the highway equivalent of the warning track. It's a strip of concrete that has been purposefully distressed for safety. When a car drives over it, it makes an alarming noise throughout your car. As I was already alarmed, I didn't pay it any attention, other than realizing I was just that much closer to ending up in the soybean fields.

From behind us, the semi truck behind him must have been paying attention to what was happening, because he laid on his air horn to shake the other driver awake. It worked, and he adjusted himself back into his lane, and I followed after allowing him a safe distance to make sure he wasn't going to come back and finish me off.

In retrospect, I wondered why I didn't have one of those "near death" experiences. I was certainly tense enough. After the traffic had regulated and I'd taken several breaths, I flexed my hands on the steering wheel and found out that I'd been gripping tightly. White knuckle, you might say. I also loosened the vynal coating on the wheel.

My only thought at the time was "Here comes that trailer into my lane." My second thought, very close afterwards, was "I'd better leave this lane!"

Whenever I've been driving when bad drivers show up, the passengers always gain their composure much faster than I do. They always say, "Honk your horn!" or just reach over themselves. In moments of crisis, my horn might as well not even work. I never remember or have enough presense of mind to sound my horn. After all, that involves either taking one hand off the steering wheel, or being able to perform complex motion with my thumbs. Both actions are beyond me in a crash situation.

*** *** ***

I'm rehearsing with a group that's going to mount a production of Kurt Weill's Street Scene. For rehearsal today, I threw on one of my old undergraduate t-shirts. It turns out that one of the tenors used to attend my old school, and the last time both of us had performed this opera was that time. Very strange coincidence. He said that I looked familiar, but he decided to say something after seeing my shirt. I knew I held on to these things for some reason; it's so I can meet old alumni and musical collaborators years after the fact.

Or maybe because the shirts were free....