Hopefully.
You never know, time may decide to play games with me and rewind itself just to screw with me. There will be another Daylight Savings Time, but instead of going back an hour, we'll go back a month. And it'll be just me. Back to October and my cursed week.
Let me break it down for you.
October 21, 2003
I was driving my then-boyfriend home from school (he was a year younger, cougar that I was), wasn't paying attention in the neighborhood, sped by a cop, had an "Oh shit" moment and slowed my ass down, but it was too late. He turned around, signaled his lights, and pulled me over. Bam. Ticket. 42 in a 25. The cop was oh-so-nice however, and knocked it down to 40 to me. Thanks. I played dumb, didn't know how fast I was going, didn't realize the neighborhood speed limit was 25, all the stops. I'm surprised he didn't "clock" me at 45 for my stupidity, which would've been reckless. To be fair, the neighborhood isn't your typical, houses lining every street, Edward Scissorhands neighborhood. It's somewhat hilly, and the houses are all on side streets. The main street is primarily empty of houses. Still 25.
Taught me not to date immature, younger boys who can't drive.
3 Nights of driving school with my Mom (and a lovely fine) later, complete with an end-of-school test that if you held the paper in just the right light, you could see through it. This was because the DMV, oh so savvy, put the answers on the test. So that when you check an answer, it tells you if you're right or not. Mom and I were too smart (and too good at cheating) for this, apparently. 100%, baby, and no points on my record!
October 19, 2004
It was a rainy day (as are common in Virginia in the fall), and I was driving home from school. I was checking my rearview, my side mirrors, etc but wasn't paying much attention to what was actually in front of me. When I looked forward, the bright red brake lights of the car in front of me were lit up. I slammed down on my own brakes, but the wet pavement, coupled with my habit of following too closely, led me to a slight fender bender. As in, the only damage was some paint transfer and maybe a cracked license plate. The cops were called but didn't even write a ticket. My lucky day. Insurance wasn't too happy, though. But again, no points on my record!
October 20, 2005
Freshman year of college. Wilmington, NC. I was on my way to a friend of a friend's house, where we were meeting before leaving for a Hanson concert - my first since 1998. I hadn't lived abroad yet, didn't have a GPS yet, and was still absolutely abysmal when it came to directions. My mom used to give me routes 30min out of the way to prevent me from getting on the Interstates (which I have since started calling freeways because in CA - LA especially, they're not really INTERstates but INTRAstates, because most are confined to this wonderful piece of land they call California, but no one says INTRAstates because it sounds too much like INTERstates and so everyone just says Freeway). So I get absolutely crazily lost, which living in LA has also taught me happens all the time and I no longer freak out about it, because a, I'm better with directions and figuring out my way around now, and b, I have a GPS (though it doesn't work half the time so saying I have a GPS isn't as accurate as saying I have a phone that sometimes tells me where to go but more often than not fails to open VZW Navigator when I most need it or just flat out dies on me, and I then coax what little battery power I can out of it to text a friend for general directions to a place I've never heard of and have never been to before). Digression. Sorry.
So on top of getting crazy lost, I'm at an intersection, again, not paying attention (this seems to be a problem) and don't notice the light has turned from yellow to red. Almost pulled out right in the middle of the intersection. Got a laid-on-honk, but no calamities.
October 21, 2006
At this point, I worked for the local TV news station, and was working the live evening news and nightly news broadcasts (that's right, if you lived in the Wilmington area, you saw my delightful camera work and didn't even know it!), but having that shift meant I was driving downtown at 4pm, then back to campus at 7pm, then BACK downtown at 10pm, and again to campus at Midnight. My gas fund was severely depleted (though not as much as it is now, driving from the much-hated Valley to Century City in Rush Hour everyday). It was on the way back from one such shift when, out of nowhere, my car stops. And I know I just said my gas fund was always running low, but the emphasis would be the word FUND, not TANK. I had gas. I always got it at the Carolina Petro on Kerr (pronounced CAR) and Market because if you brought your old coffee cup in, you got a cheap refill, and their French Vanilla Cappuccino machine was the shit. So gas wasn't the problem. Luckily, I was able to pull it over to the side, in the beginnings of a right turn lane and out of the way. Where I then sat, freaking out, calling my Mom and a Tow Truck, and one of my roommates (I had about 9 at the time... love on-campus housing) to come pick me up.
I don't remember what was wrong with the car, but this incident led me to believe I had a curse over my head, in my car, on or around October 20. I was convinced I would die in a car accident on some future October 21 when I forgot about said Curse and made the foolish mistake of getting in a car. It's like Final Destination.
August, 2007
As a reward for making the Deans List every semester of college, my Mom rewarded me with a new car. The old one - a green 1993 Honda Accord - wasn't reliable and my Mom spent all her time worrying about me driving it. Especially since I was a 4 hour drive away from home. And instead of getting another used car, that would rack up debts in maintenance, I got a brand new, red 2007 Nissan Versa. I named her Ruby.
"This is a walking post"
credit: Hither, with my camera, pretending to be paps and following me around
October, 2007-2009
Nothing. No major car problems.
I'm thinking the curse was on that particular car. Like maybe the previous owners were sad about having to sell it, so they chanted some nonsense that would only be in effect around October 20. Or maybe it's just 4 years of strange coincidences. Maybe I psyched myself out. But that still doesn't explain year 4, when the Honda just quit on me, because I'd completely forgotten about the curse until she broke down. And this isn't to say I haven't had other car issues - I had a flat tire with the Honda, some "no, I don't want to start" moments that I said were God's way of getting me to balance my checkbook, and even some run-ins in Ruby ... yay for LA, tight parking structures, and bad drivers. So either a lot of it was just circumstance, and the fact that the Honda was getting up there in miles (over 200,000) and I was still a new driver. Or my paranoia and stringing together of unrelated events to tell a good story. Or maybe the curse was real, and was either tied to that car, or is on a 4 years on, 4 years off deal, in which case, October 2011, I'm not driving.
I bring this up because a lot of my friends lately have had car problems. Alexis and curbs don't get along, and then Wes rolled down her window and it decided not to go back up. Hither was in an accident. Schackne's car was totaled. So was Mila's. Katie was rear-ended two nights ago. And Wes? His car was stolen. As in gone. From our parking garage. None of us understand it and now are afraid to park back there (not to mention it's super tight and I actually had a minor incident with the corner).
I'm lucky to have made it through my week unscathed
Or maybe it's 4 years on, 3 years off! You never know, fate might mix it up to surprise you! Fate's a dick like that.
ReplyDeleteHello, and welcome to the Becky Club! :-)