Well - Part VIII

Life is best viewed as a continual series of improvisations.

I’ve often thought of it as a test. It had to be a test, only a test. If it had been an actual life, we would then be receiving instruction on how to deal with it. This is only a test.

In any case, my life has taken some pretty intense twists and turns of late.

My next few days were filled with little mundane work related activities. I decided to call my sister since I lied and used that as an excuse to be in Danbury to pursue the date with Cheryl. I was also doing a lot less bar hopping, eating home, and decided I needed a little drying out period. I was more than a little nervous about the date. I was also concerned about what might transpire once I placed myself back in my “old stomping grounds” of western Connecticut.

By Friday afternoon I was in full-blown clock watching mode. I had accomplished most everything my employer had put on my plate and was puttering around killing time until quitting time. The days since I had returned to work only seemed to reinforce my belief that I was a tad overdue for some material changes in my life…both professional and personal.

Maybe a jaunt back to the old hometown would be just what the doctor ordered. I certainly hoped as much.

I decided to head back to the apartment first instead of dealing with the rush hour madness in the mass exodus that is the normal northbound out of the city traffic on a Friday experience (I’ve been there, got that t-shirt). I could, in fact, wait until Saturday morning but I had told my sibling that I would be showing up on her doorstep sometime Friday night so that option didn’t really exist.

I packed up a few changes of shirt and some dress slacks for the date and proceeded out to the beat up Chevy that was “my ride” these days. It was a1998 Lumina that was just about five years past its prime. It ran but the handling and the ride suffered from a lot of neglect and several years of harsh city driving. I headed north out of the city around 8:00 pm which avoided the lion’s share of the weekend rush.

I had gone about fifty miles when I ran into some torrential rains… I slowed to a crawl mostly because the wipers on this beast were not stellar performers either. I had made the trip often enough that the roadways were familiar and I was also accustomed to the usual places in my route that be subject to flooding.

I turned up the music just about the time that the engine decided it was wet enough and wanted a break. It cut out and I rolled to a stop on the shoulder of Rte 684 15 miles south of the Rte 84 interchange. I did the usual routine…curse first, pound the steering wheel, try to re-start the car, curse, pound the steering wheel…

The rain was coming down pretty hard at that point and there didn’t seem to be much traffic (probably due to the weather).

I checked my cell phone and sure enough… my luck was holding true and there was no signal and very little battery left for any attempt at communications. I repeated the same litany with the phone as I had just performed with the car; Call, call fail, curse, beat on the steering wheel, try call, call fail, curse….

I then attempted to assess what options I did have. I could start walking and feared that I’d end up as a hood ornament on some trucker’s dash. I could wait for a while and hope that a cop spotted me, I could continue to repeat the useless attempts at re-starting the car or making a call…

Well…