Dying: Part 1

Nothing makes you enjoy life more like almost dying. Like most people, I have a pretty good existence—but sometimes I forget this. Little problems and daily annoyances start to accumulate, like a waxy build-up in your ear.

Almost dying is a like a big fucking Q-tip that goes in and clears all that gunk out. The moment you realize that you’re NOT going to die is the greatest thing in the world. Hands down. I’m not a real big drug person, but NOT dying is the kind of high that I WOULD sell my mother’s TV for. What’s so great about not dying is that, for a little while, all the normal shit that would normally get you down doesn’t faze you.

Its like “Oh, shit I have a flat tire…at least I’m alive!”

There are two times in my life that I can recall thinking: “this is it big-boy, your goose is cooked.” One time it was with my mother and sister—and the “Barn on Wheels.” The “Barn on Wheels” was a red Ford van that my family owned when I was in Junior High/High School. It was the car I learned how to drive in.
One time my Mom pulled over and let me drive around this lake near our house. The sky was clear; the pavement was dry—perfect conditions for a new driver to almost fucking kill himself, his sister, and his mother.

What happened was, in an attempt to make a left-hand turn across three lanes of traffic I gunned the “Barn on Wheels.” I mean I really gunned it.
Now, what you need to understand is—there are two reasons we all nearly died. One was my fault and one was my Mother/Ford’s fault. The thing I did wrong was get antsy and decided to make my turn even though the window of opportunity in which I could make it was very, very, very small. I should have just kept sitting there and waited for the traffic to die down a bit. But I was young, and I was worried about the little line of cars forming up behind me.



So I gunned it. And the van ALMOST tipped OVER.

Now this is where I blame my Mom/Ford. I blame my Mom because she was trying to teach her dumb-ass son to drive in such a large, awkward vehicle. I failed my driving test the second time because I took it in that van—I simply couldn’t parallel park that monster. And you know what? Neither could she.

But I blame Ford the most because that Van was a real piece of shit. For crying out loud, we called it the “Barn on Wheels” because it was this big boxy red-thing…on wheels. There was nothing aerodynamic about it. It was like the designers literally took a cube and rounded off the edges just…a…little…bit. Then POOF!!! They were done.

This how I imagine the design session went:

FORD ENGINEER 1: So we need a van design by four o’clock.
FORD ENGINEER 2: Crap, that’s like…two hours from now. What are we gonna do?
FORD ENGINEER 1: I dunno. Maybe we should get a lump of modeling clay and just see…
FORD ENGINEER 2: (Takes clay out of box) Well this looks pretty good already!
FORD ENGINEER 1: But you just took that clay out of the box…it’s still shaped like the box!
FORD ENGINEER 2: I know! Brilliant, huh?
FORD ENGINEER 1: I dunno…I feel like we should, you know…do something to it.
FORD ENGINEER 2: Look, I gotta take a shit. Just round the edges off and give it wheels.
FORD ENGINEER 1: What color should we make it?
FORD ENGINEER 2: Barn-ass red.
FORD ENGINEER 1: Sounds good to me.

Ford should be ashamed. This van was horribly unbalanced, the top was ridiculously heavy—and the only reason why we all didn’t die is because I stupidly continued to gun it. I feel like that if this happened to me today I WOULD die. I would know that a left-hand turn shouldn’t feel like that—like the world is all sliding over to one side. I would probably brake or jerk the wheel, both of which would have caused an accident.

Instead I stupidly gunned it.

As all of this was happening I was fairly certain that the van was going to roll—and we were all going to die. Once the world and van became right again, by some miracle of gravity, I didn’t feel anything but relief mixed with embarrassment.

To her credit, my Mom let me drive all the way home, which makes her braver than me. Once I got home, and I was alone, I felt very good about not being dead. For the rest of the day I felt like I’d some how pulled a fast one over on Death.

I’ve had a handful of traffic “near misses,” but that first one will always stand out to me. I’ll tell you about the OTHER time I almost died some other day.