For my trip home from Calgary - a twelve hour drive after a four hour sleep - I woke at 4:45 AM, bleary eyed and determined to beat the traffic. I climbed into the car and set my GPS for the town of Kindersley, certain that this would take me home to Flin Flon via Drumheller. But it had other ideas. As I drove through the rain, my faulty wipers barely skimming the windshield, I realized that it was taking me on a new route. I turned on my audible book and kept going.
Two and and a half hours later I stared at the shifting boards of a single car bridge. A semi truck waited on the other side. A standoff ensued but he finally gave in and came across. Naturally, I wanted to see if he would plunge to his death in the river below. I would then turn around and take another route. (I'm certain he had the same plan.) However, he made it safely and I rattled my way to the other side, holding my breath and repeating that kind of 'Oh my God' prayer that even the most dedicated heathen will mutter under the right circumstances.
Things weren't much better on the other side. A narrow gravel road went up a steep hill, switched back in a tight U turn, then continued climbing. Another car came along, driving about four feet from my bumper. It was impossible to go more than 40 K. but in a creepy, possibly serial killer way, this vehicle clung to my behind. I continued with the 'ohmygod' mantra until I was safely back on asphalt with the other car whipping past at 150 K. When I got to Kindersley, my car looked like we'd been on safari, so I drove to the Co-op carwash. To my delight, it was not the kind that moves you along, making you feel really stupid, like you've parked wrong and will possibly end up sideways.
Instead, it was the stationary kind where the water sprayer and flapping brushes come to you. As I sat inside, I realized that this might be a good time to apply some makeup, brush my hair and change my shirt. By this point I looked like the half dead survivor of an apocalypse. I'd known the day would heat up and had stashed a Tee shirt on the back seat...the fancy kind with a layer of chiffon over the front panel. (Why? I don't know...maybe because it was five in the morning?) Of course my head got stuck in the wrong layer and while I was trying to figure it out, the carwash door rolled open.
I'd been under the impression that it would stay closed until I was good and ready to leave. Not so. By the time I got my shirt on, I found myself staring at a man in a pickup truck parked just a few feet away. He looked back at me, but not in a 'hey, sexy lady,' kind of way. (That would have been very uncomfortable. Besides, there's nothing sexy about a woman of a certain age in a battle with a multi layered shirt.) Instead, with his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed like Clint Eastwood playing Dirty Harry, his expression said, 'Someone should lock that woman up.' With a shake of his head, he drove away.
'Thank God,' I muttered. Another common prayer of mine, because these magic moments happen more frequently than I would like. For some reason it reminded me of the time I was parked at the cemetery with my boyfriend and suddenly realized that with his dark good looks, he resembled the vampire in the movie we'd just watched at the Rex Theatre. "But I'm not him," he said protestingly as we drove away.
Or the moment a few weeks ago when I didn't want to step into all the pollen on the lake and tried to exit my kayak by stretching between it and the shore. 'I'm going down!' I hollered to no one in particular, since I was alone. 'It's happening!' I shouted to a bored looking bird on a nearby tree branch. Fortunately, I mustered enough strength to return home with just a wet bottom. I felt like Arnold Schwartnegger as I brought the kayak in line with the rocky shore using only the strength of my thigh muscles. (They ached like the dickens the next day.)
I will never see the man from the car wash again, or if I do, will not recognize him because I have a problem with faces, thank God. And though I may not be good with google maps, or packing the right shirt, or responding correctly when facing a semi crossing a bridge, I will always show gratitude when leaving behind these awkward moments and making it home in one piece. Next time I'll set my GPS for Drumheller. Foolproof, right? Only time will tell. And now, in honour of the blog title, there's this.
