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Three weeks ago to the day (Wed, 16-Apr) I had a particularly eventful commute. I generally don't mention the 80 mile round trip travail. Most people must endure similar annoyance, so it's not particularly notable. I was going to let this one pass, but I figured I might want a record for myself.
The morning is kind of cute. I need to get gas and my wallet only has a ghetto of ATM rendered twenties. I go out of my way to provide exact change where possible. It's a simple act of courtesy that can momentarily lessen the burden of a rather dull task. Alas, not today.
My gas guy then says, "Aww, man. I was going to call you 'exact change guy' today! What's wrong?" He actually looks disappointed. I fell bad, but there's no help for it. He knows I tried.
Fast forward to the drive home. There's a steady drizzle and some wind, so I take the tamer toll road rather than my usual, more rural route. While waiting to pay, I fumble for change. I only need a few singles, there are none to be found. I'm looking for some quarters when... BOOM!
I'm hit from behind. My car jumps forward about a meter. I'm surprised, then pissed. I look up expecting to see the ubiquitous SUV as my assailant, but all I see is truck grill. Still too angered to be rattled, I'm out of the car before my brain is entirely engaged. The other driver is also out. He asks, "are you ok?"
His question brings me up short. I go numb as the enormity of possibility sinks in. I've been hit by a huge 18 wheel tractor trailer. The largest kind of vehicle seen on the road, it's flat bed sporting towering tarp covered mounds. In spite of it's sudden stop seconds ago, the load is completely still, subtly reinforcing the impression of immense weight.
My bumper has small crush marks in a couple of spots, but the damage seems minimal. From the truck's perspective, this was just a love tap. My foot must have let up on the break on the initial impact. If I had taken the full force of the inertial, I'd likely be entirely missing a rear end. All things considered, it's a very lucky close call.
We exchange niceties. We don't wait for the cops. My machine damage seems minimal, I'm more concerned about my neck. It doesn't hurt now, but there's a little twinge relating to where I was looking when hit. I hope for minor injury.
Three days later, the pain grows. Neck and shoulders are the focal points. Not constant, but sharp hits when I move. There's nothing to be done. Someone else might be making litigious moves, but I know it won't really do anything. Only time heals this type of injury and no amount of bitching will change that. A doctor might give pain killers or muscle relaxants, but the results will be the same.
The serious pain lasts for about a week and half. Three weeks later it's still sore. As injuries go, it's not a standout. It will fade into the background of aches and twinges earned over a lifetime.
If I hadn't be fishing for change I might have been looking in the rear view. So, the moral of the story is always have exact change.
The morning is kind of cute. I need to get gas and my wallet only has a ghetto of ATM rendered twenties. I go out of my way to provide exact change where possible. It's a simple act of courtesy that can momentarily lessen the burden of a rather dull task. Alas, not today.
My gas guy then says, "Aww, man. I was going to call you 'exact change guy' today! What's wrong?" He actually looks disappointed. I fell bad, but there's no help for it. He knows I tried.
Fast forward to the drive home. There's a steady drizzle and some wind, so I take the tamer toll road rather than my usual, more rural route. While waiting to pay, I fumble for change. I only need a few singles, there are none to be found. I'm looking for some quarters when... BOOM!
I'm hit from behind. My car jumps forward about a meter. I'm surprised, then pissed. I look up expecting to see the ubiquitous SUV as my assailant, but all I see is truck grill. Still too angered to be rattled, I'm out of the car before my brain is entirely engaged. The other driver is also out. He asks, "are you ok?"
His question brings me up short. I go numb as the enormity of possibility sinks in. I've been hit by a huge 18 wheel tractor trailer. The largest kind of vehicle seen on the road, it's flat bed sporting towering tarp covered mounds. In spite of it's sudden stop seconds ago, the load is completely still, subtly reinforcing the impression of immense weight.
My bumper has small crush marks in a couple of spots, but the damage seems minimal. From the truck's perspective, this was just a love tap. My foot must have let up on the break on the initial impact. If I had taken the full force of the inertial, I'd likely be entirely missing a rear end. All things considered, it's a very lucky close call.
We exchange niceties. We don't wait for the cops. My machine damage seems minimal, I'm more concerned about my neck. It doesn't hurt now, but there's a little twinge relating to where I was looking when hit. I hope for minor injury.
Three days later, the pain grows. Neck and shoulders are the focal points. Not constant, but sharp hits when I move. There's nothing to be done. Someone else might be making litigious moves, but I know it won't really do anything. Only time heals this type of injury and no amount of bitching will change that. A doctor might give pain killers or muscle relaxants, but the results will be the same.
The serious pain lasts for about a week and half. Three weeks later it's still sore. As injuries go, it's not a standout. It will fade into the background of aches and twinges earned over a lifetime.
If I hadn't be fishing for change I might have been looking in the rear view. So, the moral of the story is always have exact change.