Active Mind, Creative Spirit
Most of you know by now that in the last month I’ve closed up my consulting business and my photo business and my outdoor/wellness business to take a full time job working for someone else. I’ve spent the last 16-ish years working for myself, so that was no small shift. I took it because while I like challenging myself on my own projects and dreams, I’ve missed working with a team, sharing ownership and collaborating on a regular basis. Countless hours in your own head, in your own space is less valuable to me than people contact and working together on something bigger than any one of us. Also, this company is the big dreamy version of what I envisioned with my outdoor/wellness company when I started it. So I’m super happy with the move.
And, as any such shift, there is an accumulation of chaos that goes with it. You might say, “When it rains, it pours.” Three days before my start date I got called to jury duty. Smh, grumble and defer it for 6 months. Move on. Except 18 inches of snow fell the weekend before I started too, shutting down the city, keeping my kids out of school for over a week, and leaving us with one car that could move family members out of the house. The power was out. We shoveled and shoveled. Oh, and my commute is diagonal across the city, and because of the snow, buses weren’t running on any kind of schedule. And plows went up our main thoroughfare once, but that was 8 inches ago. Our own road was plowed in. Let’s just say, the plow drivers were not Minnesota plow drivers. No worries, we have the SUV. Hubby worked from home for several days and I made it through the first week of work and the record snows to the office.
So on Sunday around 1 pm, after my first week of learning (that felt like cramming for a college final), I was running errands in my neighborhood. And that’s when all the chaos of the last 3 paragraphs dissolved into “no sweat.” Back roads were still icy, though main roads were clear and wet. I almost made it to errand spot number 2, when a spanking new Acura sedan ran a stop sign on a shared drive between parking lots. He did it 8 feet in front of my SUV. I T-boned him in the driver’s side at about 8 miles per hour. Dang! Don’t ever do that if you can help it.
I backed up so he could open his car door, and made sure he was ok. He was, but I couldn’t help noticing he put an open can outside his car door in the snow when he got out. He asked if I was ok. I was. We talked for a couple minutes. He had no license plates on his car. When I asked to exchange information, he couldn’t find his phone, or his license, or his insurance card, but he swore up and down that he was insured, and kept saying the very recognizable name of the company while digging through his car.
I called local police and it rang through to 911 because Sunday. I spent about 5 minutes trying to convince 911 that they should send a local squad because no proof of identity. They said that’s not a matter for police; the road was a private drive (parking lot) and not something they would answer. It didn’t seem to matter that there were no plates on the car, no insurance card and no phone number. Two cars passed us, driving between us while 911 asked more questions. Finally, the thing that got her attention was this: I think he might have been drinking because he put an open can in the snow when he got out of the car. Hmmm… she thought, then asked where I was, and said she’d send a car. I got the impression it wasn’t going to be right away.
I sent a text to hubby:
-Hi, I t-boned a guy flying out of the Motel 6 parking lot. The wreck is not nearly as bad as where this guy probably came from. Waiting for the police to arrive.
-Oh no! Need me to come?
I noticed his front axle was broken, he wasn’t going anywhere.
Then, 10 minutes after the impact of the two vehicles, while the police were still en route, a woman emerged from the back seat of the Acura. She was tall and thin, with a lacy top, furry boots and a parka. Her hair was matted in back, and she stumbled and struggled to stand up. The driver had a short exchange with her. I heard her say, “I just want to go home.” “Take a bus,” was his short, uncaring reply. She turned and walked toward me until her face was 4 inches from mine. Towering over me she said, “I just want to go home.” Her face was scarred and covered in sores. Her left eye was black and swollen mostly shut. She wreaked of liquor.
I stepped back and took a breath of fresh air. “I can’t help you,” I said with far more resolve than I felt, so she turned and struggled down the slick road toward the nearest bus stop. I got into my truck to stay warm and find paper to take this guy’s name down. He was sheepish, withdrawn and mostly quiet, but managed to produce his insurance card and spell his name. He admitted to not stopping at the stop sign. I breathed a sigh of relief and said that I had never t-boned anyone before. “Yeah,” he replied, “mine are usually head on…” I wondered if that’s what he meant to say.
Seconds later not one, but three squads showed up behind me. There was chatter on the radio about this location last night. One of the police asked me to describe the woman. “We just passed her. She didn’t want to talk to us.” It was now about 1:30 Sunday afternoon.
I sent another text to hubby:
-I’m good now, the police came, he’s claiming responsibility. A drunk woman with a black eye got out of the car and wandered off. The police found her at the end of the drive. They had seen her last night after an altercation.
-Sheesh, talk about instant karma!
The third squad circled the motel parking lot and left. After one of those waits that seems much longer than it actually is, they told me paperwork was done, and determined my car wasn’t so damaged as to keep from driving away, so I could go. I thanked them, told them I appreciated them, and went. They called a tow truck for him.