lucky.
unlucky.
lucky.
unlucky.
he loves me.
he loves me not.
So I'm driving to NYC, minding my own business - and driving the speed limit, for your snoopy information - when I hit a patch of water on the NJ Turnpike, sending my well-equipped Forester into a fast spin. NoNoNoNo I remember shouting, my panic mantra of choice.
As luck would have it there were no cars or trucks near me and when I hit the center guardrail with the passenger side of the car there was no severe damage to the car... or me.
I was facing traffic. You don't realize how zippy traffic is until you are facing it, the wrong way. So I had to guage when traffic wasn't a-comin' around the bend and go for a big fast fat fucking u-turn to get going again in the correct direction, after a quick breather to regain breath and steady hands.
Oh Gramma Vickie, up there, thanks for your navigational powers. You rock.
I am not checking out the traditional rock star way, in car. Not this lifetime.
Rock on.