February 3, 2004
Young Woman on Rainy Day
Mike sat at the foot of the bed, and I laid perpendicular to him, my head in his lap, glasses pressed firm to my face though we sat in the dark. He stroked my hair, singing along to the Eels. My new favourite band.
Maybe Mike can be my beloved monster.
I had no intention of being here today. Twice. Or, at least, certainly not then, sometime around 8. Spartacus, the ever mutinous vehicle that he is, decided to fishtail on the ice sheet that was US 27 this afternoon, and I, in an effort to keep from crashing into a guardrail, or another car, veered us into a ditch. Where we sat, precarious, stuck, nearly an entire wheel deep in snow.
So I stumble down an icy driveway to a strange house, and beg to use their phone. To The Larsons, you were a godsend. I call dad, explain the situation, and as I am just barely out of Oxford, and he just having gotten into bed, he won't arrive for an hour. I opt to sit in Spartacus and wait.
This is strange but quite like me. I am in the driver's side seat, but realize that other cars may slip, and crash into me. Move to passenger side. Am sitting, trying in vain to read James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and really only able to focus on how cold I am as I do not want to waste gas running the heater. Figure that if someone did hit my truck, even in the passenger seat I might be flung forward, break my back or go through the windshield, if you will. So, I put on my seatbelt.
Of a sudden, there are girls running across the street. I look in the rear view mirror and see another car pulled over, though this one just to the side. The girls are stopping traffic. Moments later sirens sound as the police arrive. Another woman has had an accident, flipping her car into a ditch.
Traffic is stopped for miles.
I run back into the Godsend Larsons home and call dad, explain new situation. I am, at the moment, stranded on the side of the road with no hope for escape. I certainly can't walk back to campus. Ten minutes by car... thirty-five on foot. I don't even have a proper hat.
So, I beg a few gentlemen out of their cars with sexual favors kind words and they, along with the Godsend Son of the Godsend Larsons, manage to push Spartacus up out of the ditch and back onto the road.
I drove a steady 40 miles per hour the rest of the way here, my eyes peeled for slick looking spots of pavement.
My faith in humanity has been renewed today. It never truly disappears, just manages to become soiled and kicked about a bit. I received aid, and cheerfully, from strangers, and I shall never forget the kindness showed. I only wish I could send thankyou cards.
astera at 10:51 p.m.