What's the Matter Here?

Dear God,

It’s been a few months since I’ve last written a letter to you. And boy howdy have things been a little crazy in the meantime. As you well know, I turned 50 on the 16th and I’m okay with it for the most part. However, I must say, I’m beginning to feel a bit like my long lost cousin Job here with the trials and tribulations that have arrived since. Not that I’m complaining mind you.

As I mentioned in a letter to St. Rita the other day, I was caught in a bit of an unfortunate circumstance over the weekend. As I was heading out Saturday afternoon to spend the evening with friends, I was in an automobile accident. Thanks to you, or some cadre of guardian angels at your command, no one was seriously injured or killed. For that, I will be to you, eternally grateful.

Regretfully, my dear Natalie did not survive the event nearly as well. She is to be totaled by my insurance company. This I must confess leaves me with the most profound sense of sadness. The old girl and I have been through a great deal together in the past 15 years as she has been my traveling companion. A vacation on the cape, a couple to Hilton Head, two apartments, a condo, one boyfriend (several romantic mishaps), three jobs, massage school and hitting the half-a-century mark. And just 9 days after ye olde odometer turned over 50 she’s gone.

I will miss her so.

Sunday when I ran over to the holding lot to gather my personal belongings out of her, I had a most interesting conversation with one of the towing operators who just happened to have been one of the guys at the scene of the accident the day before. As we were wrapping things up he asked me what year the truck was and I told him a ’94. “Man those Toyotas run forever don’t they?” he laughed.

“Yeah,” I replied, “She only had 80-some thousand miles on her.”

As a result, we had a rather lengthy conversation about the fact they are so light in the rear end and that the breaking system is very finicky. He explained to me that it was a limitation in the frame that was discovered shortly after they manufactured them and that Toyota abandoned the body style shortly thereafter as it caused too many problems. I told him that I discovered that myself shortly after buying the truck and always had to be very careful when breaking suddenly and when driving in rain.

“I’m sure I constantly drove people crazy who were behind me in rain.” I joked. As he laughed and said, “Yeah, that was their problem and they just needed to deal with it. Right?”

“So I guess you were planning on driving her ‘til she quit?” he asked.

“That was the plan.” I snorted, “I was going to run her ‘til the wheels fell off. And the whole time I was sliding toward the car it hit I was thinking. Lady you are sooooo ruining my plan!”

We both let out a laugh.

“So I guess this is one roller coaster ride you won’t want to be experiencing again anytime soon?” he chuckled.

“Ah no.” I replied, “It was an interesting adventure. But I’m done for awhile.”

He shot me a toothy grin and said, “Just remember to write it all down as it’ll all be fiction one day.”

A chill went up my spine as I shot back, “That’s the plan. Take it easy man!” as I opened the driver’s side door of the rental I’d picked up just an hour before and slide into the seat. I pull through the gate of the back lot and headed on my way.

As I pulled out onto the major thoroughfare from the service road, the words of my towing guy rung once again in my ears, “…write all down as it’ll all be fiction one day.” How funny that he was able to pick up on the fact that I’m burgeoning writer.

Maybe it was the way I told him the story about the accident. Or perhaps it was my sense of humor and dramatic flair as I regaled my tale. And it could be just as simple as the fact may be a budding writer himself and he could tell we were compadres.

Who knows?

I had a bit of a slight meltdown at lunch today. I ran over to FedEx to drop a package into the delivery stream for my friend W. On the way back, I stopped at Chipotle in the building where my office is located. It was a typical lunch rush crowd. People sitting at tables sitting and chatting, some jackass in the line in front me too busy yaking on his cell phone to concentrate on telling the line crew what he wanted on his burrito.

As I grabbed my bag off the counter after paying for mine and heading out the door, I had the most clear and distinct thoughts go through my head. Man I’m fucking tired of this. I’m tired of every little simple thing being a hassle. I’m tired of taking care of everyone else and I want someone to take care of me for a while. I’m just so very done.

When I got back into the office I caught my boss in the lunch room and he casually asked me, “So how are you doing?” I shot him a look and said, “I’m done. I’m just done.”

“What?” he asked.

I relayed the story of the errands I needed to run at lunch and the associated hassles and finished by saying, “I’m so ready to do the Thoreau on Walden Pond routine.”

He chuckled and said, “Let’s get through this project and then you take a week off and do so.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him it’s going to take more than a week.

Maybe when you get a free sec you can help me out with this?