It’s raining so hard the water kicked up by my tires makes a slapping sound...
August 27th, 2008
“Son of a bitch, you’re running up the meter!”27 comments
August 20th, 2008
"Hey bro, remember me? You wrote that story about me in the paper."3 comments
August 13th, 2008
“It’s the Californians, man, the Californians are the worst.”15 comments
August 6th, 2008
The middle-aged man I picked up at Vendetta is in a hyperactively verbose lather ...0 comments
July 23rd, 2008
When I step into the obese old woman's apartment5 comments
July 16th, 2008
The obese old woman at Fred Meyer has a bad hip and a wheelchair...8 comments
July 9th, 2008
“...I need to take a shower first and wash all of this blood off.”6 comments
July 2nd, 2008
“So I’ve got these two women in the back of my cab who just refuse to get out...”8 comments
June 25th, 2008
“My friend’s getting divorced, and he’s really drunk,” says the bartender...8 comments
June 18th, 2008
There’s nothing like a good Friday night, and I’m referring to the money.3 comments
[March 19th, 2008] It’s raining so hard the water kicked up by my tires makes a slapping sound as it hits my chassis, like waves against the hull of a boat.
I’m only doing 60, but it feels like I’m roaring down the Banfield as I deadhead back into town after a nice trip—three professional bull riders out to the Wood Village Wal-Mart at 11 pm. The driving conditions are miserable, but I’ve got Anderegg cranked on the speakers, and the combination of the beautifully delicate music, the lulling rhythm of the windshield wipers and the barely audible whir of the defroster has me feeling completely safe.
I’ve reached a point where I know my Crown Vic as a beetle knows its carapace. I am the car, and the car is me. We move as one, as gracefully and reflexively as a large cat returning to its den.
And it occurs to me that it’s curious and maybe even a little troubling that my mind never gets all Zen and shit unless I’m thinking about work. Thoughts of “becoming one with the cab” probably aren’t indicative of a healthy and fulfilling life.
But fuck, when it comes down to it, I just love to drive. To get in this ugly-ass old muscle car with horrible gas mileage and back-breaking seats, get out on the empty nighttime streets, and just drive for hours on end.
The MDT beeps, I snag an order in outer Northeast, and I can’t help but smile.
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RECENT COMMENTS ON “It’s raining so hard the water kicked up by my tires makes a slapping sound...”
amen, there is no past or future behind that wheel. all that matters is now, for sure.
I had my first chargeable accident in over 6 years of this a while back. Now that wonderful zen-like feeling you so eloquently describe is mixed with this awful, creeping dread of making even the tini...
God damn did I hate that feeling. I haven't written about accidents yet. The chargeable one I had was incredibly banal and minor, but I had another one where it was the other guy's fault that was co...
And what's absolutely hilarious is that less than an hour after writing the above comment, I got into a chargeable accident. I guess that misery loves company.
