Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

(For anyone who hasn't already heard the derivation before: if someone who commits a felony is a felon, then God must be an iron.)

I tend to drive a little fast, a little often. And I do use my cell phone -- with a hands-free adaptor -- while driving. And some folks think those are dangerous. But I don't have accidents when I'm speeding, nor when I'm talking. This is probably due in part to my paying attention to proper following distance, and keeping my eyes moving in the "scan the surroundings and look well ahead" pattern instead of letting them wander off in the "trying to remember something" or "trying to figure something out" directions the way one can do when one isn't piloting a ton or two of steel with a whole lot of kinetic energy.

I didn't even have an accident driving a Big Rental Truck with a trailer through the mountains while badly sleep-deprived.

No, I had a little bump a few weeks ago doing about 10 MPH in a 35 MPH zone, when my tires let go on wet pavement, and last night I smashed up real good at about 20-30 MPH in a 65 MPH zone. There was construction on I-95 that took away three of the four lanes, and last-minute mergers were making a mess of it. I was already in the far right lane (the only through lane), trying to slow down without getting hit from behind or the side, and the car in front of me suddenly slowed down a lot.

Okay, that's what that following distance is for, right? To allow for reaction time when the person in front of you does something sudden. That's why I insist on maintaining a serious buffer fore and aft. But it wasn't enough: when I started to brake, the car didn't slow down much more than it already had before this all started; then it went right from not braking much to having the wheels locked up, and I slid into the fellow in front. We bounced apart, and he brought his car to a stop while I was still sliding, so I hit him again. (He was rather perplexed as to why I'd hit him multiple times. I don't think he realized I was still sliding foreward after the first.) Of course, with the lane to my left disappearing and people trying to merge in from it, people in a hurry behind me following too closely, and cars getting into the exit lane on my right, there wasn't any place for me to steer to. :-( The road didn't feel or look wet when I got out, so I can't understand why the car slid as far as it did. I've got one brand new (less than one hundred miles) tire on the front, and the other front tire looks pretty good. It's as though the car were badly overloaded or something, but all it had in it was a guitar, an aloe plant, and me.

Doggone it, I try to do things right -- I'm often the only one out there who isn't tailgating, and in this case I was already dropping speed to account for the funky traffic, keeping an eye out for what those around me were doing (and trying not to get rear-ended myself), and I of all people wind up smacking someone else from behind. I want to cry.

There's no good time for a car accident, but this is a worse time than most. My latest paycheck was small because I was doing so poorly health-wise in May that I didn't get many hours in; my next paycheck is going to be small as well, and won't be enough to cover the budgeted expenses; I might have to find a new place to live and get myself all moved very quickly if the Plan To Buy The House doesn't work; I must get to rehearsal tonight because we've got a gig coming up Sunday, and I'm not in a location I can get rides from or catch mass transit to where I need to go; and this is a car I couldn't afford in the first place (one friend talked another friend into giving it to me, then the first friend donated time and materials to fix it up, because I'd been without a car for months after my last one ate itself at Pennsic and couldn't afford to replace it). I dread telling #12 that I smashed up the car he put so much effort into putting togther for me, I dread telling my bandmates that I've got Car Trouble yet again, I dread telling my insurance company that I banged up someone else's car, and I Just Can't Bear To Think About the process of figuring out how to come up with money to get this car repaired right now. I need to figure out whether I can drive it as it is without doing Major Additional Damage because of how things are all bent up in front. (The fan, for example, makes a kind of disturbing noise, but does still turn.) I'm afraid to try to open the hood to see what's what, 'cause I'm not sure I'll get it closed again. And I really need to get to a) rehearsal tonight, b) performance on Sunday, c) doctor appointment in a week and a half, and d) either the office of the mortgage broker or cheaper houses to look at or both.

I'm scared. I want someone to hold me and stroke my hair while I cry in their lap, and then I want a leprechaun or djinni or something to make it all better.

And I'm frustrated and confused because, doggone it, I try to do things right on the road, I do pay attention, I do leave room ahead of me unlike damn near everyone else on I-95, and I can't understand why the other fellow was able to bring his car to a stop three times in the space it took me to stop once. Or why my wheels locked up so quickly. (Obviously a controlled stop works faster than a skid, but the thing is, I didn't STOMP the pedal and lock things up right away; I increased the pressure gradually, and it went from not-enough to too-much with no bowl of porridge just the right temperature in between.)

It's Just Not FAIR [stamps foot]

At least the state trooper didn't seem to be bothered by the knife I was wearing. (I was in medieval garb, which means I was wearing my eating knife ... which is doubled-edged and therefore a weapon according to the law.) She pointed out that it was in my best interest to drive away if I could, because if I needed to be towed, she'd have to charge me for the accident. After exchanging insurance information, I did manage to drive the rest of the way home.