White Fuzzy Dice

Being a Kansas girl comes with its stereotypes, one of which is the belief that I have always owned a car and know how to drive (cars, trucks, tractors, etc.). There are people in this world (mainly those from Missouri) whom believe that being from Kansas I am a horrible driver, but let me assure you, there are some prize drivers up there in the North East. Yes, it’s true, they all come from New Jersey.

While my boyfriend has a wonderful, much newer car for his adventures, which I should note, he deserves and pays a lot of money for; I have a delightful red truck. I’ve named it Clyde, it’s awesome. It’s three different colors of red and if you floor it and are going down hill, he may even reach sixty miles per hour traveling speed. It’s a great car for me to have while I remind myself how this whole driving thing works. If you saw it you would understand how it matches my personality quite well.

The world through the eyes of a driver is so much different than as a passenger. At least, I notice different things. The first thing I noticed is that I may very possibly own the oldest car the whole area. Granted, I may just be the bravest person in the area to drive an almost twenty year old truck, but I’m just saying, it’s the first thing I noticed. I’ve also come to realize that my biggest issue is this whole parking thing, which is really funny considering a heck of a long time ago I had a part time job issuing parking tickets. I think it may very well be karma biting my butt, so when I do finally get a ticket for being parked outside of the lines I’ll know I had it coming.

Yesterday, my truck and I went on a big adventure, all the way to a Walmart and a job interview. (I know, VERY exciting.) Outside of a driver’s education course I took when I was fourteen, I had never driven on the highway and hate bridges with such a passion that I have always avoided them, especially during weather where the temperature likes to hobble back and forth around freezing, so it’s impossible to know when there’s ice on the bridges. Here in Maine, that’s the only type of weather we know around here, so I was a little worried and scared of driving so I was extra cautious and took routes with slower speed limits, just to be on the safe side.

Now, if you’ve read my previous rant, you would know how I have had a difficult time communicating, much less relating to my new statesmen so at a stoplight in New Hampshire, when I looked over and saw a woman driving a white station wagon, almost as old as my truck, with the fake wood paneling I was so very happy. She even had fuzzy dice hanging from her mirror, from my height in the truck I could see some of the contents of some of her car and could tell she was my kind of person. It was a wonderful moment, she never saw me and since her car wasn’t quite as old as my truck, she sped off and I thought that would be the last I saw of her.

I saw her again, later that afternoon. It was a very chilling, sad sight. I didn’t see her actually; I saw her car, fuzzy dice and all, smashed, along the highway in a very nasty accident. While I was at my interview we heard lots and lots of sirens. It was very troubling, but the relief that comes from not knowing anyone is not to worry when the sirens go off. It’s not like back home where if they were near you then you’d peek out the window, just to make sure the neighbors where safe (and to be nosey). It was one of those back to reality moments for me. Sometimes when I get stressed and busy I ignore what’s going on around me that doesn’t involve me directly just to simply focus on what’s at hand. I’ve pretty much been doing that since I’ve moved to Maine. The sight of the wreck changed all that though and reminded me how little control we sometimes have over what little time we get to spend with people. I didn’t even know her name and yet she changed my whole day so much. Funny how that happens sometimes. It also makes me wonder if I have ever had that much impact on someone.