Things About (Bad) Driving

Dear Friendly Car Insurance Company:

Recently, you sent me a thing-a-ma-jiggy to install in my car that would track my driving habits and potentially qualify me for a reduced insurance rate on my car.

Before you render judgment based on the feedback you receive from this gizmo, I feel that I should be allowed a chance to explain what you are probably seeing on my report.

First of all, you will notice a nine-hour period of driving on a recent Friday that contains numerous hard stops and sudden accelerations. I would like to point out that my oldest daughter is learning to drive, and given the size of my engine and excellent working condition of my brakes, that day when I let her drive all the way to Bend really shouldn't be counted against me. The times when the vehicle exceeded 90 miles an hour were her well meant passing trials, during which I may or may not have been unconscious in paralyzing fear. I feel the wear and tear to my tires and the amount of rubber we left at the launch of every stop we made is more than enough to pay for her driving education, and my insurance rates shouldn't reflect this learning experience.

Also, regarding the recent Tuesday morning when I am sure you noticed a particularly sudden stop, it was only because I had missed the turn to the closest Dutch Bros, and even you would have to admit that locking them up was a better option than an illegal u-turn at a busy intersection.

In the driving hours clocked after 2 AM, I would like to submit for your consideration that while many people drive at this time inebriated, or at least suffering from sleep deprivation, my own road hours were clocked in an attempt to avoid driving with a car full of awake children. This is a specialized tactic in travel safety, reducing in-vehicle distractions and avoiding the well known swerve-while-swatting-blindly into the backseat to separate fighting kids that is a continuous daytime driving hazard.

Please also remember that while traveling 12,000 miles in a month and a half might seem excessive on an average scale, I live in a very remote location, requiring a lengthy commute to groceries, irish dance lessons, doctors visits, family weddings, various sporting events, counseling sessions and of course beer runs. I would like it noted to my record that I have maintained religiously, the three thousand mile oil change regimen at a variety of northwest Oil Can Henry locations, since I don't have to get out of my car and they give me a free newspaper and pretend to like me (shout out to Carlos in Walla Walla!)

In regards to the Saturday before last, my sister drove my car, and I don't feel that I should be held responsible for her poor driving choices, lack of seatbelt wearing, or the cookies she spun in the walmart parking lot.

Finally, I know that on Friday of last week you will see another series of fast takeoffs and urgent stops, as well as that one time when I drove for about 6 miles with my emergency brake on. In this situation I had visited British Columbia and was confused by all of the road signs which are posted in Canadian.

I appreciate the time and consideration that I am sure you will give my appeal, and the adjustments you make to my policy accordingly. I know that you appreciate fastidious clients like myself who are also good communicators.

Sincerely,

Liv

Things About Near Death Experiences

Ok. The cool thing about near death experiences is that you don't actually die. No matter how close you come, you can't die. Because then it wouldn't be a near death experience. You never know how you'll respond to imminent death, all up in your grill. My first thoughts were A) how ticked my kids would be to miss the Avett Brothers show in October, and B) whether I was wearing my super grodiest undies for when the medics (who would inevitably be friends of mine) cut the clothes off of my body. The final decision to NOT die was based entirely on the memory that the side of my bra was twisted and I hadn't bothered to fix it so I would look like a blind three year old had put my under garments on. Clearly this would be an unacceptable condition for body discovery. 

My near death experience started when one of the other medics brought this huge native kid into the med unit from the line with some sort of a "sting". He was pretty sure it was a scorpion, since his face and arms were "tingling". This is type 2 firefighter speak for "I got a pine needle in my shirt and I am tired of working." We gave him some Benadryl and made him sit in the sick bay for awhile, but pretty soon he realized the medical unit was even more boring than the murky pond next to an old mine where his crew was hanging out, so he asked for a ride back. 

Being in my fragile condition, my team has graciously made it possible for me to do work around camp instead of hiking into poison oak laden gorges of sharp rock. As we've already established, the medical unit can get pretty boring, so I volunteered to drive him up to his crew. Most of the drive was spectacular, up the Rogue River, twisting and tumbling into yellow green hills that stood like gnarled rock sentinels guarding the path to the ocean. We turned off on a narrow gravel road with a sign that said "Last Chance Mine", and weaved our way up the deep ravine. The road was one car wide. Only one. Not one and a half. Not two. I was rambling on about how two way traffic on this road would be a nightmare, blah blah blah. We got to the top, or at least the end of the good road, where some crazy person lives. Tingly-Arms said his crew was up a road that only barely qualified as one, and that the other medic had driven it, so it would probably be ok. 

A couple things to know about the other medic, Gary, is that he is in his mid sixties, has worked for Fish & Wildlife for 1000 years as well as raising cattle and several kids. He can't hear a thing, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't feel much either - I have worked with Gary a lot and I really truly like him. But Gary has absolutely no fear of death. He is an animal. Of course he drove this hill. In his F&W truck. Casually, I'm sure,  not even noticing the insane slope or the deep water-worn trenches and frost heaves around mastiff sized boulders. So here I go, up the hill. I did have the foresight to put my rental Jeep Pioneer in 4WD, which may or may not have saved my life. Tingly-Arms didn't seem at all nervous about the hill. The thing about boys is they're really good about doing things without thinking about them. The thing about girls is that they change their minds way too often. Which is exactly what I did, halfway into the 50 degree slope on the first turn. As I tried to dig a hole in the floorboard with the brake peddle, and engaged the emergency brake, I could almost see Tingly Arms giggling out of the corner of my terror filled eye. The jeep was sliding backwards, diagonally, between two not-friendly looking edges of the road, which were even steeper. I had the underwear and bra conversation with myself as I hung suspended, looking out my driver's side window, towards Certain Death. I was completely convinced that we were hanging sideways with one axle hooked on a big rock, and there was no way down but rolling. Which, based on the accident last week on these roads where a water tender rolled and killed the 19 year old driver, seemed like a terrible idea. Tingly Arms had a mischievous grin, and told me I should "just gun it" which I snapped back would be really easy to do if I could stop sliding. His smug 18-year-oldness, combined with my underwear epiphany, and the fact that I had basically NO other choice, compelled me to follow his instructions. I'm fairly certain that I closed my eyes, and somehow made it up on the second attempt at "gunning it". The next corner wasn't much better, but at that point I had decided if I was going to die, my body should be lost in an unrecoverable ravine. I ALMOST changed my mind again halfway through, but the beautiful thing about being a girl is that I can change my mind about changing my mind, and after a glimpse of a waver on the gas pedal, I held my breath and chewed up the corner. Tingly Arms giggled and made some comment about how fun that was, and I tried not to paralyze him with my eyes. 

By the time I got to the murky pond and the animal Gary, I couldn't stand. Turns out that a pucker of that magnitude engages and tortions core muscles that I would rather not even acknowledge were there, let alone use at that intensity. I skidded back down the mountain without dying, miraculously, and managed to put off throwing up my Olive Garden leftover lunch until I was out of sight of all of the firefighters, who didn't seem the least bit impressed that I had just accomplished a Feat of Unnatural Courage. By the time I got back to camp, I was only mildly nauseous, my full on shakes were reduced to a slight buzz and the adrenaline overload was demanding a nap. And a pain killer. I said a few choice curse words instead of having a little cry, and made a beeline for my tent, where I immediately straightened my bra out.