Them's the Brakes

Today, I have something to say which I usually do not have the luxury of saying. Today, something exciting happened. No, I did not discover that 'Boy Meets World' is on twice a day on ABC Family. I've known that for quite some time. I am talking about real excitement. I am talking about genuine heart pounding, pulse racing, bowel loosening, staring death in the face excitement. Of course, it's wrapped in the dull and mundane, but such is my life.

Today, I was simply taking a short trip to good old Grove City - which for the uniformed contains no groves and is most certainly a city in name only. I was simply going about my normal activities. Going to the local library, scouring for work and the like. As I piloted my '93 Chevy Lumina - the very sexy, scantily rusted car I have dubbed 'The Silver Bullet' - toward a red light everything was going to plan. My mind was hardly on my driving. I was contemplating such lofty ideas as the responsibilities of free will and the uselessness of Aquaman, as I began to depress my brake pedal. Suddenly, to my abject horror, I found my foot and the pedal drop effortlessly to the floor of my car. There was no resistance, and - even more alarming - there was no deceleration. My brakes had given out.

Now, I would like to say that I remained absolutely cool, calm, collected, poised, but I would also like to say that I run a small island nation in the South Pacific. Needless to say I panicked. There was a truck ahead of me stopped at the light. I was going to crash into it. I just knew it. My heart leaped up into my throat as my stomach dropped down into my bowels. Luckily, my liver stayed put. Sweat popped out along my forehead, and soaked my underarms. I actually made this sound: "DAAARRAARAAARGH!!!" Of course, this was screamed out like a little girl, with tears streaming down my face. I had never been more sure that disaster and, yes, maybe even death was inevitable.

You may assume that my life flashed before my eyes, that I was treated to a kind of going away montage of my greatest hits. That is what people say happens, but it didn't happen to me. I didn't see my parents faces, or the lost loves of my life, or my missed opportunities. All I saw was the rear end of a Mack truck, getting progressively and unavoidably closer. Then again, maybe my life did flash before my eyes and I just didn't notice it. After all, most people don't notice my life. Why should I?

Still, I was not consigned to disaster. I was not going down without a fight. This was not to be the end of James. Oh, no. So, I did the only things I could do: I prayed and I desperately tried the brakes again and again. I pumped those brakes for everything they were worth. Trust me, you could watch all the porn in the world and not see pumping as vigorous or hard as this. I hit those brakes with everything I had and prayed that somewhere, some how, my car had some residual memory of stopping, that there was just one more stop left in the old girl.

I kept pressing harder and harder, until I thought that my foot would burst through the floor and drag along the pavement. Even then I would have remained pressing for dear life. Finally, a miracle happened. As I pressed harder, the car actually began to slow down, and not just from coasting. Somewhere, brakes were causing friction. I was slowing down. Joy of joys, thank you Jesus, I was slowing down. I was actually coming to a stop. I was going to survive. I was going to live. Of course, the braking power was pretty bad. I would still probably hit the truck.

But no, with my new confidence. I had the wherewithal to turn myself onto the shoulder of the road completely avoiding disaster. Then, the light changed. The truck moved and I ever so carefully - never driving above 3 m.p.h - I was able to guide my wearied vessel into a parking lot to safety.

The emergency had passed. I was safe. I was alive. Nothing bad had happened at all. I felt like dancing. I felt like singing. I felt like bursting out of my car and hugging and kissing every person - or any hot girls at least - in sight. Now safe, I felt life rush back into me. I had come so close to death, to tragedy, and I had avoided it by the narrowest of margins. I did the only thing I could do. I curled up into the fetal position and began sucking my thumb. After all, this really was quite a bit for my milquetoast soul to handle.

Now, I could go on. I could tell you about the time spent in the parking lot stretched out on the hood waiting for AAA. I could tell you about Dave - the less than talkative flatbed driver. I could tell you how this caused yet another unforeseen charge to my already overused credit card. I could tell about all of this, but that is only the mundane shell, the ordinary part of this extraordinary adventure. I have ordinary adventures every day, and so do you. So, I'm simply going to leave it to the extraordinary today. Who knows when I'll have this opportunity again? Plus, 'Boy Meets World' is on.

Shalom