My morning started early in a relative kind of way. I just mean my paws hit the ground running though they were expecting to just sort of slide into a cup of coffee and wander off. My mom had scheduled a lab test, I mean in her own mind; yes it actually existed, I mean when she showed up it did, I just didn’t know it was going to be this morning or at seven effing A Em (that’s fucking A M to y’all).
So it takes a little bustle in the hedgerow to load and unload walkers and such, and I had an errand or two to run myself, which, as it turns out, seven thirty effing a m is too effing a mish for. One I should be doing now but I’m just not up for it.
So there was some driving around listening to tunes, which, in a default sort of way, is my default meditating mode. I’d love to blame it on Gearing myself up for heavy work in Oregon (mostly heavy on the spirit) and lord knows I’d give myself all sorts of lead time so I could do just that (mostly, sometimes it was to just get out of the house and not the house so much as whatever shrieking shrew I might have been sharing it with). But it’s not true. I picked up the habit here.
I’d run down M-78 out towards rose lake before school in the mornings --- sometimes I wouldn’t make it to school. It’s just an old ingrained habit, there’s something elegantly dangerous about clearing your head with eighty miles an hour of lethal force and the volume cranked up. I was thinking about that the other day and talking to a friend about it.
Teaching people how to drive.
The hardest and saddest lesson and, unfortunately, the most analogous, is the idea that every other motherfucker on the road is either trying to kill you or fixing to kill you through negligence. It’s the idea thatr all the right of way, signs, signals, shit you need to pass the written exam for --- despite all of that, you can’t trust a motherfucker once he/she/it get behind a wheel. The real art to driving or what they call defensive driving, is the assumption that something is horribly wrong with every other motherfucker on the road.
I might have neglected to mention I AM every other motherfucker on the road, but, most of the time, the only one without any interest, malicious or otherwise, in killing me. I did have the tunes cranked and I might have been shouting out lyrics. I don’t recall, I wasn’t that awake.
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