It started off as a simple accident. But I guess “things
spiraling out of control” is my specialty.
It was Thursday morning and I had to go to work. Since I had
spent the night at my chick’s apartment, I was granted with both being able to
sleep in a little (she lived closer to my job than I) and the delightful
opportunity for different scenery on the drive in.
I worked in northwest Washington, D.C. In an area called
Tenleytown, which housed rich jerks and most of the student body of American
University. To get there from where I was currently, meant going through
downtown Silver Spring, Md. (Singular, not plural. Silver Springs is in
Florida. I swear to god if I have to correct one more person on this, I’m going
to trail off with a vaguely threatening mumbling….)
I was on Piney Branch Ave., at the intersection with Fenton
Ave., in the left lane, about four cars from the light. I was sick of sitting
there and must have been really inpatient to get to work*, so I decided to cut
across with a left turn into a parking lot that I knew joined up one block down
with Fenton in the direction I wanted to go. Without hesitation, I grabbed the
steering wheel forcefully in my hands, and accelerated my car into a left hand
turn.
There was only one problem.
In my haste to make the turn, I had not properly judged
distances between, say, my car and the car in front of me. Very improperly,
would be a better way to put it. Didn’t judge at all would be even better. I
hit the car in front of me would probably be the most accurate statement. My front right fender nudged the left rear
fender of that car. It didn’t stop my momentum, but it was jarring.
Oh well, I thought to myself. ‘Tis but a scratch. I have no
desire to stop to assess the damage with this person and it’s probably not a
big deal anyway.
Let me pause here in the story to tell you a little bit
about me and cars. My car’s name was “Keep Getting Caught”** and unlike most
boys with their toys, I have absolutely no respect for my vehicle. In the
slightest. If my car was sentient and had the voice of, I dunno, Anthony
Anderson, it would have called the cops on me years ago for domestic abuse. I
think I get it from my father. We both drive our cars until parts fall off and
the car dies like the Bluesmobile at the end of The Blues Brothers, (Look it up kiddies, best Saturday Night Live movie ever.) When people try to play chicken
with me when it comes to changing lanes, slowing down, speeding up or anything
else that could cause accidents and dismemberment, I just laugh at them, partly
because my car is a piece of shit and I don’t care what happens to it, partly
because I’m crazy and may have a death wish and partly for some third reason to
be figured out later. So my scraping another car was just something to take in
stride, as far as I was concerned.
Seven seconds
As I drove through the parking lot, I figured that even if I
did pull over to exchange info with the guy, he didn’t have enough space to
pull over to talk. No harm, no foul.
Then I took a peek in my rearview mirror. The other car had managed to use the
space I had just taken up to reverse and pull into the parking lot behind me.
It wasn’t over yet.
I had no intention of stopping for whoever this was, I had a
shitty job to get to and I knew the streets of Silver Spring like the back of
my hand (Funny story: I constantly forget that I have a tattoo on the back of
my hand.) I decided to make a run for it.
Fifteen seconds
I negotiated the parking lot speed bumps without slowing
down and exited onto Gist Ave. Seeing a break in the cross traffic, I tried to
lose my pursuer by making a quick left onto Fenton. One block later I made a
right onto East-West Highway. I knew that the light at the intersection of
East-West and Georgia Ave., was annoyingly long, convoluted, poorly placed and
resulted in a lot of backed up cars. I figured I’d lose the guy there.
Twenty nine seconds
So far, it had been less than a minute and my heart was
pounding. I’ve eluded cars while on foot, rollerblade and bike, but rarely by motorized
vehicle. I had no idea who the person/people were in the other car, but I knew
that I had already made my stupid, impulsive choice of how I was going to
handle the situation. I had to run on.
TO BE CONTINUED…
*That’s the only
explanation I can think of. I must have REALLY
wanted to go to work, or something.
**Because I never do.
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