Relief is realizing that despite having run over what appeared to be a mattress on my drive home, I am (in fact) still alive. The sad (??) irony is that I probably would have avoided the drama all together had I been riding the ass of the truck in front of me. Then maybe the mattress (if it was a mattress) would have flown over my car. As it were, however, I watched in horror as it flipped up off of the white truck (I think it was white, I’m sure it was a truck) up into the air and did a little dance before coming down on the pavement right in front of me. Given that this was maybe a quarter mile from the Richmond exit and cars were doing their damnedest to get in front of each other to be first down the off-ramp, I didn’t have a lot of wiggle room here. And by “didn’t have a lot” I mean that I couldn’t go left nor right to avoid this debris. So I braced myself for the impact that would surely cause my premature demise and allowed the ensuing crunch to assure me that I would at least escape with my life. Quite full of panic, I rode out the remainder of that quarter mile with my foot on the brake and my poor little Neon in 4th. I didn’t bother with the hazards as their switch is kind of inconveniently placed and anyone that could see me had certainly seen the incident as well. That said, it’s worth noting that no one followed me to the Richmond Park & Ride to ask if I was alright. The truck (I’ll add) sped off without me having a chance to jot down the license plate. Not that I’m accusing him of “speeding off” (though I’ll admit, I rather enjoyed that choice of words) – – it’s probable that he went to that Mobil station right there and left it at that, not even knowing of my peril and plight. Regardless, I pulled into the Richmond Park & Ride to give it the once over. I guess there was no major damage; I couldn’t see any, at least – – and the car still ran. Even started right up again.
I suppose it was all just as well, I needed to top off my washer fluid anyway.