It seems like an eternity since I last posted anything here. Safe to say, life has been kept quite interesting. Not only did the Cubbies start playing (and losing consistently), but I had Old Style beer for the first time in a couple years. Amber is visiting from Indiana. She's one of the kindred souls that allowed me to sleep on her couch during the heyday of living out of my car and, speaking of cars, got into a lovely accident just yesterday. Throw in the fact we just finished up our Easter rush at work and you've got quite the hectic week.
As I mentioned in my very first post, sports aren't my thing. I don't follow football anymore. I don't even understand half the rules for Soccer. I do, however, love watching the Chicago Cubs play some baseball. It's not even necessarily because I love the sport, but rather for the memories and the companionship that it stirs up. Watching them play is a social event for not only my boys and me, but it also brings other fans out of the woodwork. There is not one baseball team that has fans as dedicated as those of the Cubbies. Being a Cubs fan is more of coat of arms, a badge proudly worn. You can strike up conversations with anyone wearing the team's memorabilia. You walk away from that conversation feeling like you've made a new friend. Not one other team has that loyalty.
I like the aesthetic of catching random Cubs games at any given time of day. Watching a night game, you're prone to drink a hundred beers for one of two reasons: the Cubs win or the Cubs lose. Either is an legitimate reason for overconsumption. I love the way that dusty sunlight hits the floor of The Ship as I'm knocking back Old Styles with one of my best friends at noon. I love the peanut shells strewn across the table, quickly becoming mountains as the game progresses. The outside world ceases to exist while a game is on. It's something intangible, an experience you'd be hard pressed to find outside the confines of a dive bar during gameday.
After opening day, it was back to work for five straight. The Easter holiday took its toll on my body as per usual. Amber arrived late Friday night for a long visit. I haven't seen her since last summer. Catching up, talking and chain-smoking like the three of us used to do in her garage has been quite the way to pass the time. Showing off our city, our new favorite haunts is always a fulfilling endeavor. We are proud of our diamonds in the rough and are always happy to share. PDX has welcomed her yet again with open arms.
Yesterday morning, Robin was scheduled to work at 8am. She had intended to walk if I hadn't dragged my sore body out of bed in time to drive her. I woke up at 7am on the dot and immediately told her I'd be glad to take her to work. We smoked and drank our coffee quietly while Amber slept on the futon. We got dressed and headed out the door. It was a gorgeous Spring morning. Bright and clear, with a slight chill in the air. We inhaled as much of it into our lungs as physically possible. It was the perfect Spring morning. The kind of morning where you want to just fly by the seat of your pants, to be carried by the wind to all corners of the world. Overindulge in everything, become one with the weather. In other words, too perfect.
Traffic was backed up near the intersection by our apartment. All the cars on the road were appropriately stopped, keeping the entire span of our driveway open. I had a clear line of sight into both lanes of traffic. I double and triple checked the streets before I made my turn. I was good to go. Crossing through the median, I was nearly T-boned.
The driver that had plowed into me was traveling so fast that I didn't see her until impact. I hadn't even had time to hit my brakes or take any other sort of evasive action. My front left tire received the brunt of the crash. It was smashed inward at a 45-degree angle. Undriveable. None of us were hurt, but my car got pretty fucked up. We exchanged all the necessary information and a police offer showed up on the scene.
The driver told Robin, the police officer and me that she didn't feel like waiting for traffic, so she was going to bypass traffic by driving to the gas station. In doing so, she pulled into the median long before it was a legal turn lane. Therefore, my legal left-hand turn crossed her direct line of (illegal) travel. She was not supposed to be driving in the median. This was confirmed by the police officer. It was the first accident she had ever been in. She practically admitted fault by saying she didn't want to wait on traffic. Her impatience caused the accident. I had to get my car towed to the body shop because it was undriveable given the status of the wheel.
No one was injured, although Robin is pretty sore from the impact. Three more feet and I would have been crushed. The cold, hard truth of that fact is still staggering. I dodged something big. I am not necessarily angry at the other driver, just the circumstance. My car is out of commission and I am awaiting estimates from the body shop. I have been haggling with insurance companies for the last two days getting statements recorded and putting my side of the story into play. I was not at fault, and I am thankful the other driver admitted to wrongdoing. Now the insurance companies get to battle it out.
So, for the time being I am driving a year or two old silver Mustang. It's a rental from Enterprise and I didn't have the opportunity to pick the car. It's quite an odd feeling to say the least. It's a boat compared to Cavalier Eternal. There are so many bells and whistles that turning the windshield wipers on is a chore. I've been playing Clash albums in it just for the irony.
Everything is in limbo right now. Car insurance claims are outstanding and I got slapped with another $1300 bill from the surgery center. I had my credit limit extended to $3300 to cover everything. Money is tight and priorities are everchanging. I look forward to the day where everything will be settled and in the past. Hopefully that day will come sooner than later. For now, I am going to knock back beers with my friends and Robin. Call it escapism, but it gets me by.