Posthip

The last few times I’ve driven, I’ve felt a little uneasy getting behind the wheel at first. I figured it was because I don’t drive everyday anymore, or even every week. That’s part of it, I’m sure, but part of it is that rental cars (and the other cars I’ve driven lately) are all automatics, and not only do I prefer a standard, but it’s the only kind of car I’ve ever owned. They make me feel connected to the road in a way that automatics don’t.

Saturday morning at 5 am, taking Michael to the airport, we got stuck at the scene of a fatal accident. Someone was going east on 183 using the westbound lanes, and they struck two cars head on. When we arrived there was a firetruck and an ambulance, and the cops arrived with us. They set out the flares just behind us, blocking off all four lanes of the highway, leaving us stuck inside the scene of the accident until finally they decided to let us drive through the wreckage past the demolished vehicles.

Then last night, taking David’s house key back to him at the Grapevine, an Explorer directly in front of me paused at a yellow light. Very tentatively, it angled to the left slightly but didn’t go. In my mirror, I saw a red pickup pull from the line of cars behind me and begin to pass on the left. As it passed me, the Explorer moved further to the left and into the side of the pickup, which didn’t stop but sped on, the Explorer’s bumber scraping lengthwise down the entire body of the truck and then falling to the ground.

Sometimes when I’m driving I feel slotted into a groove in the road, safe and rooted. Other times it feels like I’m driving on a globe, balanced on top of a disconnected world, barely held by gravity. I guess I should probably just watch where I’m going.

(Originally posted August 15, 2006)