Maybe I should have realized April Fool’s day 2010 wasn't the wisest or most propitious of days to attempt crossing off some “nagging necessaries" on my errand list. The main things were an oil change, DEQ test and new license for the car, a much-needed haircut, then grocery shopping for the upcoming family dinner on Sunday. So, April 1st or not, I set out with high expectations that I would accomplish all seven errands, safely and timely.
Thankfully, the lethargy of a few days ago seemed to be gone and my energy level had bounced back.
As I left home that morning, the sun winked on and off through some puffy white clouds and the air smelled fresh and new (not like a wet dog, which is how it smelled after the previous several days of cold wind and pounding rain).
Car servicing and DEQ testing along with new license tags…those things went very well. As I pulled away from the DEQ station some of the blackest and most ominous clouds I’ve ever seen began scudding by and in a few moments, pea-sized hail rained down.
I’d just gotten onto the freeway heading east when I heard and then saw two police cars, sirens blaring, coming up from behind. They scooted around, in and through traffic, taking an off ramp about a mile down the road. The same ramp I planned to take as I continued my errand-filled day.
I decided to take an alternate route; but that would most likely make me late for the hair appointment. Due to our state’s new law against talking on a cell phone while driving, I had to pull off the road while I called to say I’d be a bit late to the haircut appointment. How late? Oh, 10 minutes, or so. Okay, that’ll be fine.
Alternate route #1: Road crews were holding up traffic while jackhammers tore away at the asphalt. Not knowing how long the wait would be, I decided to follow the lead of the car in front of me and turn off that road, down to the next parallel one. That road had a sign “Road Closed” and a detour arrow. Twisting and turning along narrow side streets, the detour dumped out onto a four-lane highway.
Oops, another siren in the distance. Rear view mirror shows an ambulance fast approaching. All traffic pulls to the side of the road. The ambulance turns left—at the same intersection I’d planned to take. Okay.
Alternate route #2: And that will be? I’m in the outskirts of my town and not totally familiar with every road. Just then, I see a sign pointing to the North-South freeway entrance, two miles down the road. A different freeway would skew my route about four miles but if the flow was steady, I could still make the appointment.
There’s no turning back once I decide to enter this freeway. I’m committed. Bad decision. From my position at the rise of the on-ramp, it’s obvious this freeway is at a total standstill. Taillights blink on and off, semi-trucks’ Jake brakes chatter and shudder as the behemoths stop and go, stop and go. I can see several miles down the freeway—the only discernable movement is literally just inches forward and then a halt. My choice has been made; I must enter this veritable slog of traffic.
And then I see it—the flashing highway sign advising motorists there’s been an accident on the top deck of one of our bridges. Two lanes closed. Even though this bridge wasn’t one I would be taking, the result of the accident meant that most arterials had been affected.
