Did you ever get behind someone who was driving so slowly
that you thought your head might explode … only to realize that if you had been
going the actual speed limit, some disaster would've befallen you?
I've done this numerous times with major accidents, where I
come upon them right after they've happened, often times right after the injured
party has blown by me on the highway, and right before the cops and ambulances
arrive. First thought is always,
"Wow, a minute faster and I probably would've been in the middle of
that!"
Of course this sucks royally when it's the lottery ticket
line and you end up letting someone cut in front of you who quick-picks the
$590,000,000 sole winning ticket. It
also sucks when you're a second too slow and an angry bee flies into your car right
as you shut the door (and while all the windows are still closed).
Tonight leaving North Andover after watching the Bruins put
in a lackluster performance and enduring bad refereeing, I pulled out onto busy
route 114 to get home. 114 isn't always
an easy trick, especially if traffic is coming, and it's damn-near impossible
to pull across both lanes at any time of the day or night.
The van I pulled out after seemed to be tooling along at a
decent pace, so I was a bit annoyed when it turned onto Elm Street and decided
to drive along at five miles per hour under the speed limit. Its brakes kept jamming on, and I was
starting to wonder if the mini-van driver were having a seizure or a heart
attack. Finally, after a painfully slow
half mile, the van turned left and allowed me to get up to a rational speed of
about thirty-eight miles per hour, which for me is exactly three miles per hour
slower than I normally drive on this road.
As I drove around a corner heading into town, I saw a stout
animal slithering across the road. Its
body held low to the ground, and I wondered if it might be a rabbit or a
neighbor's cat or one of the infamous river rats making its way from one side
to the other. When I got up close to it
with my car, I noticed the white markings running the length of its otherwise
dark body.
Skunk.
I had damn-near run over a skunk. Not only would it feel gross bumping up and
over a little body as I turned it into pavement pelt, but the oils and smooshed
fur would create a stench in and on my car rivaled by none. Overnight the stench would spread around the
neighborhood, and by morning it would be in the air until the next snowstorm.
So, thank you, crazy-slow mini-van driver. Had you not appeared to be lost pulling in to
someone's driveway, there's no telling what might've happened, but one thing is
definite -- It woulda stunk like skunk!
