The Slow Lane to Enlightenment

Throwback Thursday – Ps & Qs from fifteen years ago…

As I sat in my little easy bake oven of a Subaru on Hwy 82 the other day, I managed to switch my attitude from negative to positive. I have been working on spontaneous attitude adjustment for some time now, as anyone who runs into me when I’ve had too much to drink knows. And as for the drinking, ever since the RedWings won the Stanley cup (and then proceeded to DENT it) I’ve been in a bit of a mood.

Anyway, I was completely sober and almost fully cooked as I sat in my car, sandwiched between two giant American made beasts. I felt like an opossum waiting in line at an elephants’ all-you-can-eat buffet. I could not see anything in front of me except for the back of an SUV with Michigan plates and a blinding spark every time the woman’s left hand flicked the ash of her cigarette, causing her 8-karat ring to flash like Superman’s vision. (I imagined at just the right angle it would burn a hole in the upholstery, leaving a tiny wisp of black smoke and what would appear to be just another cigarette burn.)

My rear-view mirror was completely filled by a Stepford-wife-salon-style and a dark pair of women’s sunglasses. This woman was so far up my Ahem— I mean our bumpers were practically touching… or rather, her bumper was about to crash through my rear window. I was cranky and sweaty, and you’re probably thinking that I sat there steaming at these two women, but I didn’t. I flipped my attitude like an over-easy egg (which I could have cooked on the hood of my car in about three seconds) and I bonded with these women. Whether they know it or not, in the forty minutes it took us to get from Satank Road to the light at 133, I formed an alliance with these women that enabled me to get home safe and sound (and with my car, which I seriously considered abandoning because I could’ve walked home faster.)

F.Y.I., it should never take forty minutes to get from Satank Road to the light at 133. For those of you who are from another planet (a planet where there are no roads), here’s a little Earthly tip: if you’re driving on a two-lane highway and you see everyone lining up in one lane, that’s not because we like to sit in our cars in 90º heat and wait. It’s because everyone has to merge into one lane. No, not everyone else, EVERYONE. The people who go flying by in the other lane astound me. I mean, there cannot be that many clueless, displaced Russian aristocrats left in the world, can there?! And if you’re the kind of person who passes on the shoulder and you ever end up sitting on the barstool next to me, you’d better hope Chris Chelios is sitting on the other side because he’s about the only one I’d rather lecture on minding one’s Ps & Qs.

Back to the women I may never meet, but with whom I shared a very positive encounter; the three of us stuck together like a pb & j that’s fallen behind the seat, not to be discovered for a week or two. We let in no one, and I mean not one car. Not even that guy in the green hummer who almost hit Lois Lane on the driver’s side and then revved his engine at us. “Nice truck, sorry about your penis.” –BA. While I realize the non-zenness of our actions, I have to wonder if knowing when to forgo Buddhist behavior for fewer cooked brain cells isn’t the key to a balanced life…

Finally, a semi-truck came along, blocking all further attempts to cut in, and I relaxed my hawk-like clasp on the steering wheel and slipped the gear into neutral, giving the clutch a break as I coasted along. As I looked at Mt. Sopris, I started to daydream about a little old wise man living on top of the mountain, receiving pilgrims from as far away as Lake Erie. “Why do we exist?” they would ask with earnestly furrowed brows. “Why does the road lead to these snow-covered mountains? Why does the wind blow from the West to the East?”

To which he would reply, “Because the RedWings SUCK!”