Monday, January 16, 2017

Super Talk Show / 超级访问 !!!!!

Because I hate the cold, and the weather here has been in the 20f range with hurricane-worthy wind gusts, I've spent the better part of the last two months indoors, going nowhere but the pharmacy and the local grocery store.  After the gardening hyperactivity of March to early November, it's actually been quite nice to just sit here on my dead ass, reading Lovecraft, listening to obscure music, and watching demented shit on Syfy.  In fact, I didn't realize how much I needed an extended period of simple inactivity until I realized that I was recovering from an injury I didn't know I'd had until I regained full range of movement in my left arm.

Let's go back....back in time....

Year before last, I had a job.  It was incredibly physically demanding, but I was up. Hell yeah!  

Unfortunately, not all my internal organs agreed with that decision.  

This is why I passed out briefly behind the wheel, just an instant, only to come to a moment later to find myself clanging off the drivers side door as I ran off the road and down a steep bank smack into a drainage ditch. Instead of screaming  - I don't even thing I said 'fuck' once - I started repeating "No barbed wire, please, no barbed wire, please, no barbed wire.."

Don't ask me where my sudden presence of mind came from; it's a rare enough occurrence anyway without finding myself in the middle of a car accident, but I floored it and steered into the slides as I rocketed through wet, mucky corn fields followed by a ten-foot rooster tail of mud,  dodged my way through a stand of alder, shot down a creek bed, blew straight through a brush pile - I actually caught air a couple of times as I flew up and over a couple of hay lanes - until finally I found a driveway in good enough shape to get me back onto the road.  Pedal still mashed to the floor, I drifted into a hard left and went screaming back up onto the road, hitting a car as I passed over the center line, and ended up parked in a farmers' turn-around on the opposite side of the road wondering what the fuck had just happened.

I have to admit; danger aside, it was a blast.  So yes, I was very confused at that point.  Confused yet exhilarated.  I got out of my car and looked at the front....hallelujia!  No barbed wire!!

A Polish gentleman pulled up alongside me as I stood leaning in woozy relief against my car.   Turns out he was the man driving the car I'd hit.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked.  I looked at him in amazement.  There was a long pause while I searched for the speech center in my brain.  

"Who are you?"  I asked, finally.

"That don't matter.  You hit my car. Not be worries.  My car is piece of shit.  Are you drinking? Are you feel ok?"

I finally processed this.  "Oh!  No!  I think I fell asleep or something...I've been up since 4 am.  I think I'm OK...are you?"

He reassured me.  "No worry then. My car drives. It's just piece of shit, don't even worried.  I don't smell no alcohol on you.  Just as long as you not been drinking the alcohol OK. And can drive?  Then I leaved  Don't worries my car, ok?  Is just a piece of shit."

Now, I hadn't just tapped his car.  I'd pleated the whole thing right down the drivers side.

It took a few moments to realize that, because he hadn't been lying - his car truly was a piece of shit.  It lacked any recognizable paint as well as a passengers' side front quarter panel, and he was using red duct tape in place of lenses over the backup lights.  

He was more worried about the insurance angle than I was!

It turns out I was able to drive home.  My car had no damage WHATSOEVER...just a lot of mud swept up and over the roof, some brush up in the wheel wells and a big willow branch caught in the front bumper that I swept the street with all the way home.  I had just chucked it into the compost when the Biker drove in.  The only thing he noticed was the mud, and I told him - truthfully! - that I'd gone through a couple of big puddles.

I got away with this like a BOSS.

The Biker never had a clue.  The next morning bright and early I pressure washed the undercarriage and engine compartment, checked the radiator, oil and gas - no leaks, no ponks, no scratches, no nothing. The only shred of evidence that I'd gone on Mr. Toads wild ride is that the hard rubber bumper guard on the passengers' side was shiny instead of coated in filth like my car usually is.
Friends and neighbors, I highly recommend the 1989 Buick Regal. It is a BEAST.

I quit my job that night.  I drove the car for a couple more months until the Biker decided to sell it.  We made 200.00 over the original price.

I went to the doctors and found out why I'd passed out.  Turns out I was near kidney failure for lack of hydration and over-work *snif*.  Fainting is one of the symptoms. I started hydrating like a mad bastard, and that took care of that.  But my shoulder?

I had been unconscious just long enough to realize that when I'd first gone off the road and smacked myself against the drivers' door I'd bruised the shit out of my left rotator cuff.

At least, not until, after the past few months of inactivity, it got better!


dinahmow said...

You tell a great tale! But, knowing you, there's not much exaggeration.(I suspect you omitted the bit about the Biker *really* noticing stuff.)

Vicus Scurra said...

I love you.

Navy Mama said...

Poop poop!