Me: Do trucks feel like fat people when they go up hills and cars are passing them all over the place?
Brian: OR do they feel like weight lifters because of their raw power?
Me: I guess it changes depending on whether you're going up or down the hill.
Moral of the story: be the truck going down the hill... while going up the hill of life? oh well, there's a lesson in there somewhere.
On a different note related to cars:
"Goal of the day: decide whether you'd eat green eggs and ham with a fox in a box or in a house with a mouse."
That's what I woke up to find on a sticky note next to my bed. That's what I spent the rest of the day, well, most of the day thinking about while serving pancakes and eggs to hungry families, hungover college kids, and couples out for Sunday brunch.
The day was uneventful, the same as every other weekend at the cafe. There was unnecessary shouting from my boss, hundreds of coffee cups filled up and drank down, and about 20 of the same jokes said to me with a nice robotic laugh in response, that I think came from me.
After work, I went home to power in some homework. Actually, I don't remember but that probably wasn't what happened. I do know I showered and changed then drove out to the mall to meet my boyfriend. I was still debating my green eggs and ham companion and our setting, but Brian wasn't debating anything as he got off work. It was time to go to his house and have some home-cooked food with his family.
The route is short and direct, only a 40 minute drive from school but there was plenty of traffic this specific evening. Brian was driving pretty fast as we cruised westward in the left lane ("fast" being the speed limit, of course.) About 20 minutes into the drive the road got bumpy.
We saw a van a few cars up switch lanes followed rather quickly by another car and Brian started braking. However, when the car directly in front of us went immediately into the right lane without hesitation it was too late for us to do the same. As soon as the car moved out of our view the only thing that we could see was cardboard. Huh? Yes, a huge cardboard box, shaped like it held a refrigerator, covered the entire windshield's view and soon covered spots of the highway and surrounding grassy knolls.
It wasn't so much a flash of my life before my eyes as it was waiting for the hit of another car. It was slow motion and instantaneous as the same time. The hit didn't come. But the rain did. There were plastic pieces raining all around the car and highway. We ended up in the grass median between the east and west routes.
Quiet. We sat there waiting for our hearts to stop beating out our chests and waiting for the cars to stop buzzing by; the latter never happened. So I finally got out of the car to check out the damage; wrecked. Thousands of dollars in damage to Brian's 6-month-old (used but lovely) car. I called 9-1-1 and went through those motions.
A wonderful woman stopped on the side of the highway, crossed two lanes and made sure we were okay. People are good.
Another woman came out of the darkness having walked hundreds of yards from her truck down the road, the one with the driver still sitting in it, and she shouted towards us as she began gathering her belongings.
"You must have hit our box!" People aren't always good.
"Oh my goodness, it was your box!? Well, that is just fine. I'm sorry we blew it to pieces and inconvenienced you." Just kidding, I had no robotic laugh this time. "The cops are on their way," is what I really said as I bundled up to protect myself from the cold Winter air.
We called Brian's dad and told him we hit the box... he thought we said "buck." Then Brian's brother found out and thought we said it was a "fox." Apparently they had animals on the brain and probably green eggs and ham too.
Brian's dad came to get us and we ate dinner a bit later than we thought we would that night. The car was towed away and restored within about a month. The box ended up being a kid's bed frame and not a jungle gym like we had originally thought. It had fallen off their truck because of a flimsy bungee cord.
It was supposed to be snowing that night. We were running late. The accident happened about 100 yards before cement, metal, and huge ditches took over as medians. No other cars crashed. We were so close from missing that box and so close to losing something much more. We were lucky. I'm a much more cautious driver now.
And I'm definitely eating my green eggs and ham in a house with a mouse.
We saw a van a few cars up switch lanes followed rather quickly by another car and Brian started braking. However, when the car directly in front of us went immediately into the right lane without hesitation it was too late for us to do the same. As soon as the car moved out of our view the only thing that we could see was cardboard. Huh? Yes, a huge cardboard box, shaped like it held a refrigerator, covered the entire windshield's view and soon covered spots of the highway and surrounding grassy knolls.
It wasn't so much a flash of my life before my eyes as it was waiting for the hit of another car. It was slow motion and instantaneous as the same time. The hit didn't come. But the rain did. There were plastic pieces raining all around the car and highway. We ended up in the grass median between the east and west routes.
Quiet. We sat there waiting for our hearts to stop beating out our chests and waiting for the cars to stop buzzing by; the latter never happened. So I finally got out of the car to check out the damage; wrecked. Thousands of dollars in damage to Brian's 6-month-old (used but lovely) car. I called 9-1-1 and went through those motions.
A wonderful woman stopped on the side of the highway, crossed two lanes and made sure we were okay. People are good.
Another woman came out of the darkness having walked hundreds of yards from her truck down the road, the one with the driver still sitting in it, and she shouted towards us as she began gathering her belongings.
"You must have hit our box!" People aren't always good.
"Oh my goodness, it was your box!? Well, that is just fine. I'm sorry we blew it to pieces and inconvenienced you." Just kidding, I had no robotic laugh this time. "The cops are on their way," is what I really said as I bundled up to protect myself from the cold Winter air.
We called Brian's dad and told him we hit the box... he thought we said "buck." Then Brian's brother found out and thought we said it was a "fox." Apparently they had animals on the brain and probably green eggs and ham too.
Brian's dad came to get us and we ate dinner a bit later than we thought we would that night. The car was towed away and restored within about a month. The box ended up being a kid's bed frame and not a jungle gym like we had originally thought. It had fallen off their truck because of a flimsy bungee cord.
It was supposed to be snowing that night. We were running late. The accident happened about 100 yards before cement, metal, and huge ditches took over as medians. No other cars crashed. We were so close from missing that box and so close to losing something much more. We were lucky. I'm a much more cautious driver now.
And I'm definitely eating my green eggs and ham in a house with a mouse.
This was the result =/ but thank God we were not injured.
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