When I was about 17 or 18, I dated a boy who lived in Ramona, a mountain town about an hour outside of San Diego. The road down the hill could get very foggy at night, and I was told by concerned diner waitresses and gas station attendents to be careful and to slow down, but not too much, because then apparently the locals who had the road memorized would rear-end you in the fog. Supposedly this happened quite a lot.
And it wasn’t a comforting thought as I headed down the hill late one foggy night.
I was starting to feel really lost in the dense fog, but since there really wasn’t anywhere to go but down, I kept creeping along, barely able to see the road just a few feet in front of me, straining to see cars or anything.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt rather than saw, a car whoosh past me. A mid-size SUV. It had come out of nowhere, and I hadn’t seen it approach from behind me, but there it was. It had blown right past me, but once past me it slowed to my pace. I followed the SUV all the way down the hill, and it drove confidently, as if they knew the road. They never went too fast, never lost me.
When we got lower, out of the fog, it slowed even more, and I passed the SUV. I turned to wave a thank you for guiding me out of the fog, as it seemed obvious that that was their intent.
I’m not saying there wasn’t anyone in the car. I’m just saying that I could see clearly enough to see the stitching on the headrest of the driver’s seat, and I couldn’t see a person in the car. That’s all I know.
I looked forward at the road again and gulped hard. When I looked back, the SUV was gone. And while I suppose they could have just pulled over and turned off their lights, there wasn’t any other place for them to have gone.
I think the moral of this story is that angels drive SUV’s. No wonder God needs us to slaughter all the arabic people, for their oil.
It all make sense now.
Filed under: autobio, can't make this shit up, commute, life is kind to me | 8 Comments
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You were lucky. Grewing up in Bakersfield I’ve driven in the fog all my life. Most of the idiots around here don’t bother to slow down.
I am lucky. Fog makes me nervous.
That was my guardian angel looking out for you actually. He knew that if anything were to happen to you that night, I’d have nothing to do at work.
Oh, then thank him for me, leave out some cookies and scotch or something.
Scotch. He has a huge work load being my guardian angel, you know. The scotch helps the stress.
I think my guardian angel gets hazard pay.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHH!
Hee.