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| Not the picture that should go with this post. |
We own three vehicles, two vans and a Dodge Caliber. We
mainly use two of these, because one of the vans has become the “old” vehicle,
without all of the cool gadgets of the others, and so it gets chosen last to
play on the team. Actually, it is only chosen when it’s a necessity and I need
to go somewhere and the girls have the other two vehicles. There isn’t anything
really wrong with it. It’s just not as fun as the others. To be honest, I
prefer driving it to the Caliber, because I hate my ass so close to the
pavement underneath me. I prefer being high up where I can look down on those
poor drivers who piss me off.
However, with the new move in motion, the old van was called
into action as a pack mule and I was the designated driver. They used the term
designated driver, that is. I would have chosen forced, but tomayto, tomahto.
After going to the new house and dropping off three loads of
stuff we hadn’t seen in a year, we headed home to the old house for another
batch of household items. On the way over the bridge, it began to rain and
windshield wipers were now required in order not to drive off the bridge. I reached to my right and twirled the
little knob at the end of the turning signal lever.
Nothing happened.
I turned with more urgency in the flip of the wrist. Still
nothing. I kept doing it. I even yelled. “Where the hell are the wipers? Why
aren’t they working?” No one was in the car with me, so no one answered. Not
even the van. This was payback for leaving it sitting on the side of the road
and not calling it to be on the first string. Not even cars like to be
sidelined.
All I could see was the rain beating a blinding, mocking
pattern on the windshield. I was going to drive off the bridge and end up in
the brink, I knew it. I started mentally saying my goodbyes.
And then I realized what vehicle I was in and that the
wipers were actually on the other stem protruding from the steering column. I
took a deep breath and twirled that little knob while still praying no one had
slammed on brakes in front of me.
They worked! Swish swish–it was a beautiful sound. I let out
the breath I was holding and thanked the Universe for that brief memory recall…
…And then I cussed out the car manufacturers.
Why the hell do they have to keep putting things in
different places? The headlight switch should be the same in every car as well
as the windshield wipers. People own more than one car. They can’t always be
expected to keep track of where everything is, can they? Are they going to
suddenly switch the accelerator pedal and the brake pedal? Will I forget one
day which car I am in and go to slam on brakes only to wind up driving through
a 7-11? We now own a Dodge Grand Caravan and the gear shift is on the dashboard next to the radio
dial! Why are they moving things
around???
I know it sounds a little overdramatic, but I could have
died due to my lack of memory and Mazda’s need to be different than the other
manufacturers. It was small, minor even, but it could have had major results. I
was going over a bridge and couldn’t see. That tends to lead to consequences
best not thought about.
Yet, there are many things in life that are the same. They
may seem small at the time, but in the end, they could have disastrous
consequences. It’s best not to take things or people for granted, thinking they
will always be there, that you can just reach out and they will perform how you
want them to. One day someone is going to move something on you and you won’t
realize it until it’s too late and you’re about to drive off the side of the
bridge. Then you would have wished your memory was a little better.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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