I've had a great few days. I feel a relaxed urgency about being present and absorbing all of this exquisite life, big and small, deeply recognizing how short a time I have left on this magnificent earth. Hopefully another 60 or 70 years, I always thought I would die when I was 103 but now I'm thinking 112, 113. But it might be a lot sooner. I hope not but of course God only knows. In any event, 70 years is still not a lot of time. I mean the fucking trees in Riverside Park have been around longer as has the cement I walk on every day on the way to the subway. I hate the idea that cement can outlive me... by a long shot. It seems bizarre and frightening. I feel small and insignificant next to an iron fence let alone the universe or stars or wind.
Often in my life I feel the joys of this human experience, but I long to feel them even more. To be out of my distracted, prattling mind and really here for all of it.
Anna Nicole Smith can't smell a cup of coffee today, nor can my friend's 21 year-old friend who shot too much heroin last week and died. They have no worries. They have no pleasures. They're dead.
Who likes me? Who doesn't like me? Will I get the job? Won't I?
I'm fucking alive. My eyes still work. I can see what blue looks like.
My ears can still hear the church bells chiming 5 o'clock from 100th street and Amsterdam.
My feet are cramping a bit from the way they're wedged onto the bottom of my little writing table. I can feel that.
Who's luckier than me? Who's luckier than you?
The trick is having this presence more of the time... and I would prefer not having to have to be almost dead to get it.
I was driving back from town after the snowstorm last week. I was still in Vermont and had ventured to buy more supplies. I was in a wonderfully decadent riptide of an obsession with nightly cheddar cheese burgers and chocolate cookies with Rice Dream. It had been four days in a row. I rationalized that the daily skiing had earned that level of debauchery. Something about the pitch black of night at 5pm in Vermont makes me want to start my usual 9pm habit of eating and TV watching earlier there than in the city.
With my new bounty of burger and cookie making supplies, like when I would leave the dealer with a fresh half ounce of cocaine, a couple bags of heroin and a six pack of Heineken and a fifth of Jack Daniels from the liquor store, I felt safe and excited that I had what I needed for the night at least.
The roads were dry as a bone, the four foot snow banks shoved to the shoulder of the road making Route 100 like a race track. I had bounced off their forgiving bellies many times with little or no consequence to either the car or my own well being over the years so I was extra comfortable going 70 when most were doing 50. I generally like to drive very fast, at least 20mph over the speed limit. Usually 40mph over.
I'm an excellent driver. When I was a cab driver I used to have professional race car drivers and private detectives alike give me their cards, compliments and offers of work from the back seat.
While driving I can jerk off, eat a meatball hero with extra sauce and talk on the phone in an ice storm all at once safely, not that I'd want to or ever have but... that's what a good driver I am.
I was on a long, straight, stretch of two lane highway. It was pitch black save a couple street lights a couple hundred yards apart. My blackberry rang which was odd because when you hit this section of route 100 usually reception dies forever until you come out of the Green Mountains miles away in Manchester. This would be the last call I could make or receive and it was from my agent so I wanted to take it. I mean I could have called him back in twenty minutes but it's often exciting to get a call about work and I have a couple cool things in the hopper so I was eager to hear any news.
I looked up and saw no cars in front of me at all. For as far as I could see, which was five hundred yards at least. It's a country highway with no stores on it. No on or off ramps. Just road. Either slow cars in front of you to pass or not pass depending on your mood and the curviness of the particular stretch of road you're on at the present time... You know, and if any other cars are coming the other way of course, but they're the least of my worries.
I grabbed the ear piece and started clipping it to my ear. RING RING RING! Hurry.
I looked up again. No cars. RING RING RING! Come on. Answer the phone!
I got the ear piece clipped on. RING RING RING! Fuck! It's gonna stop ringing soon and once you've lost it, you'll have to wait until you're home to get the news! Pick... it... up!!!
I looked up. No cars.
RING RING RING!!! I pressed in the scroller.
"Hello?"
I looked up and THERE'S A CAR!
SITTING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY. STOPPED. WAITING TO TURN LEFT FOR SOME REASON!!!!
It was maybe, MAYBE 50 feet in front of me. I was going 70mph. I don't know the exact math but I had about TWO SECONDS before I smashed into it full speed.
My brain started taking in information quickly. I've played scenarios like this over and over in my mind my whole life. I've thought of way more strange circumstances even, this was actually one of the more casual scenes in my fantasies of catastrophe.
He was waiting to turn left into the fucking Mobil station I forgot was on this stretch of road.
He couldn't turn because there was a car coming towards us on the other side of the two lane highway heading the opposite direction.
That's why he was stopped and that's also why I couldn't try to pass him on the left. I would drive head on into the other car heading towards us.
I also didn't have time to fly so far over to the left that I missed the car heading towards us on the other side of the road and make it to his shoulder, which was one option.
I slammed on the brakes but it was clear within a half a second that I had no chance of slowing my speed very much let alone stop before barreling into the stopped car at at least 50mph.
I was in a rented Exterra, which apparently flip at the drop of a hat. I had rented it because I was going to be driving in two feet of snow I thought most of the week. But this road was dry and smooth.
My tail swerved from slamming on the breaks at such a high speed. I had maybe ONE SECOND before I smashed head on into the back of this stopped car.
I lifted my foot off the break, realizing my only hope was to try and make it past his ass on the right, on the shoulder which was no longer there because of the packed snow bank... and my own ass was skidding sideways now, the car was not straight. I needed it to correct and swing back straight or to the right at least so I would smash into the snow bank at worst on the shoulder to the right of this stopped car. If I hit it at the speed I was going, I might kill the family sitting, unsuspecting, waiting to go to the gas station... and maybe even myself.
I was TEN FEET FROM THE CAR AND MY ASS WAS STILL FLYING TOWARDS THEM... I BRACED MYSELF, CRANKED THE WHEEL AGAINST THE SKID TO TRY AND CORRECT IT ENOUGH TO MAKE IT THROUGH THE TINY CAR WIDE SLOT BETWEEN THE STOPPED CAR AND THE SNOW BANK...
To be continued...
Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 5:39 PM