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Or, Bustache and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - The Finale
Last you left us, Steve, Westi and I were driving Bustache from LA to Orange County in SoCal's "Storm Watch 2011."
Sometimes I intentionally make bad decisions. Take this scenario, for example:
This is me on any given Friday night (when Steve's out of town, of course...).
I am faced with two choices. First, I can do the smart thing and place the glass of wine on a solid stable surface, like say, the coffee or side table.
This really is the only choice.
However, most of the time I pick option 2. I choose to save .00001% of my energy and precariously balance the glass on my white down-comforter right next to my thigh; thus, avoiding the double effort of reaching for both the coffee table and the remote, AND then the coffee table again.
But I'm saving .00001% of my energy!
This is obviously stupid... and 99 times out of 100, it results in red wine spilling all over my down-comforter, and I think... why, oh why, didn't I just do it the right way!
I sooo deserve this.
But that 1 time it doesn't? I exclaim in glee that I wasn't punished for my laziness, and I promise never to do anything that stupid again.
Can anyone relate to this? .... No? .... Shoot...
What does this have to do with the previous story - our journey from LA to OC that fateful day? Well, deciding to drive south was like picking option 2. It was stupid, and halfway through the trip, I knew if we made it home alive, we would exclaim in
glee relief that we weren't punished for our laziness/stupidity. And we would swear we never to do anything that dumb again.
It turns out that this storm was record setting in Southern California. I know that might not be saying much, BUT, I'm pretty sure this is somewhat comparable to a Level 2 Hurricane in other parts of our country. I mean, our roads and psyche aren't built for the rain.
We started heading straight south... it was a little precarious, but not impossible.
But the further we drove, the more the rain came down and the wind picked up.
At one point, Steve looked over and saw me white-knuckling the door handles. He decided this was the time to impart some reassuring wisdom.
"You've got to relax, Babe. If we get get in an accident, it's those whose bodies are most relaxed that will survive. If you're tense, the injuries will be amplified."
Um.... if I could think of the ONE piece of advice that was not going to make me more relaxed? That would be it. Fail, my Love. Epic fail.
But we kept trudging a long. The weather just got worse. And Bustache's handling just got less and less predictable.
Looking out of the windshield, we strained to keep our eyes on the road... or even just SEE the road.
Not an exaggeration.
There were several moments where I was sure we were going to be blown over or crashed into. I still have no idea why we didn't stop.