B-Town Undercover: Full Moon
I don’t know about you, but when I have a day when pretty much everything goes wrong—I blame it on a ‘full moon’. And I’m not talking about ‘pants on the ground’ full moon.
On my way to Northgate today the roads were clear (rain free). I wasn’t texting or talking on my phone (and I didn’t even sign Oprah’s ‘no phone-zone’ contract). In fact I was performed my lane change in near flawless Drivers-Ed guide format. I’m talking about the instructor not the student. Blinker on—check, look in rear view mirror—check. Glance over left shoulder to assure zero cars are in my way—check.
Hoooonk. A driver performs a stealth maneuver scaring the crappola out of me. With my cat-quick reflexes I move over 10 feet or so back into my original lane. Whew—narrow miss.
As I drove onward with a palpating heart I quickly panned my rearview mirror again—two cars are pulled over to the side of the road. This could only mean one thing and I was afraid that I was the cause of that thing. So I did as any good concerned citizen would do. I put the petal to the medal. I pulled over.
A lean tall fellow in basketball shape inspected his car while the other fellow; Mr. AARP with graying hair stared intently at the side of his own car.
‘Didn’t you see me?’ said AARP.
‘No, I’m sorry, I really didn’t see you.’ I said in what I hoped was a sincere manner.
‘Well I had to swerve out of the lane when you started to move over and I clipped basketballs’ car.’
‘Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.’
I don’t know, I think when one goes into a dicey situation with an honest approach, it just seems to work out better. I mean what are they going to say when I simply admit the truth. And I knew that since I didn’t actually hit AARP’s car that I was most likely in the clear. Basketball, AARP and I exchanged information in a very, I must say friendly fashion. This after we discovered the common bond of ‘first time accident ever’ for any of us. Though I escaped without scrapes on my car, I still considered it an accident.
As we parted ways, basketball said he was on his way to school but gave me his card. Turns out he’s a DJ, I hope I find a need for a DJ soon it seems like the least I can do for his scraped up car.
After the incident, I realized I better pay more attention to the road. I was so hyper vigilant that I soon realized something was amiss with the Hondy. What was that revving sound coming from the engine each time I stopped at a stoplight? With my luck, the car would break down on the viaduct. Sweat started to accumulate on the end of my nose (a strange phenomenon I have). I rolled down the window thinking perhaps someone else’s car was making the annoying yet disturbing sound. No, it’s my car. At the stop light (and not while driving) I text my friend Sally about my **^%$ car. I’m supposed to meet her in 30 minutes and who knows if Hondy will make it? She agrees to meet me at the Honda repair shop.
After dropping off the cube with the report of ‘a bad noise that sounds like a jet- engine.’ Sal and I make it in time for Robert Dugoni’s book signing where we speak with the esteemed author who has made Three Tree Point famous. He generously signed our books while Dan the owner of the Tin Room gripes about being described in Dugoni’s book as a ‘grey-haired gentleman.’ “Couldn’t you have written something a bit more complimentary, such as Dan the gracious silver-haired-handsome-charming and dynamic owner of the Tin Room?”
Sally taxi’s me to my home where I retrieve a message from Tom who is in Chelan. “I just picked up the mail and you have one of those ‘camera’ tickets from Tacoma, you must have run a light.
OMG—a driving three-peat in one day. And like I said, it was a full moon.
- I’m the cause of an accident.
- My Hondy breaks down.
- A ticket from one of those annoying stoplight ‘photo-enforced’ cameras.
Twenty-five years of living in Burien gives Humorist Shawn Underwood much fodder for her writings.
All of her stories are true, or at least have a grain of truth with no added embellishments.
Or something like that.
And have you bought her new book “Mommy Are We French Yet?” yet? Buy it here.
Read more of her humor at her website here.