A Load Off My Mind

The image keeps spinning through my brain like a movie: the huge (visualize 5’ long and 2’ in diameter) auger falls off the trailer in front of us, then bounces higher than our car, as we speed down I-95. Thank goodness the auger came down to the left, and Grant swerved to the right, so our car wasn’t crushed, and we weren’t killed or injured. Our windshield did suffer a crack, perhaps from a chunk of asphalt chipped up when the auger touched down the first time. No other damage, except a few nerves.

After Grant helped the driver reload his equipment, he let Grant photograph his driver license, then sped off without a thank you or a wave. In Florida, windshields are automatically covered with no deductible, so he could have been nice, but I guess it wasn’t a great day for him. At least he noticed his load had broken free.

One day I was driving on I-595 to pick up Patten at American Heritage School where he attended high school on a 4-year academic scholarship. I think he is still listed as never graduated because the ad min didn’t record his required volunteer hours he had worked at the Discovery Center. But he did finish at U of Miami with a BA in International Business, so now moot. Back to I-595. That day, I was following a pickup towing a trailer with a big sheet of plate glass which started flexing back and forth in its stand.

To be safe, I decided to change lanes, and just as I did, the pane of glass flexed one more time, then broke into a million pieces. It just disintegrated all over the highway. Once I got to the school, and Patten looked at my car, we realized a piece of glass had cut my AC hose, so that was a pricey lane change. The crazy part is that the truck driver and his passenger just went speeding down the road, without a care. They never looked back or noticed their glass was gone. I almost followed them to see the expression on their faces when they got to their job site and found their trailer empty. Still makes me smile to think of them scratching their heads in confusion. I hope it didn’t cost them too much in the experience.

Turnpike Stop 

Friday, we were on I-95 because we had taken a carload of treasurers to our new house. We had been in a dither figuring out how to pack our paintings and my plants, when Grant suggested we just put them in the car and head on up to Windermere. My knee-jerk reaction was, “No!”  We have been so good about staying home, why would we risk driving up the turnpike with the necessary gas, bathroom, and food stops we’d have to make? It wouldn’t be safe.  But it really made sense, so we packed the car, put our masks and hand sanitizer in easy reach, and drove north.

Saturday, our covenant group check-in questions were: when will we feel safe, and what will we do then? I had been thinking about the pandemic and whether I will feel safe enough to fly to visit Mary in San Diego this summer. After seeing that auger fall off the trailer and bounce over our car, I realized safety is an illusion. I can do everything right, but it may not matter. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go hug a stranger or buy tickets to a UM football game, but it does remind me that I can’t control everything even when I think I can.