Saturday, November 05, 2005

Damn near Dead.

You know that moment when the invincibility of youth leaves you? Even if you haven't experienced it, you've heard everybody tell you.

Well, that moment still hasn't happened to me yet. But I did come within three hours of potentially dying, providin traffic would have been heavy. Let me explain.

I went up to Winston this weekend to see an old friend of mine get married. Strange as it was to see Terry Phibbs get married, it was nice. Well, after the wedding and an incredibly awkward dinner with Terry's dad, I went over to Juantron's house and proceeded to drink a lot of beer. Unfortunately, it was Miller High Life (the Champagne of Beers. Pfeh.) so I didn't even really get a buzz, even after quite a few. Nine-ish.

Here's where Death could have come to visit. I went to sleep at about two in the morning, and woke up at seven. I considered sleeping an hour or two longer, but decided to go ahead and hit the road because I had to work at nine that night (Sunday)... with a three hour drive in front of me. So I gathered the few things I had with me, said goodbye to John, and left.

Changing a tire at 7:15 on a Sunday morning in my D.S.J. (Dead Sexy Jacket) on the side of I-40 in 30 degree air was not what I had planned.

And if I had slept in, I'm certain the traffic would have been heavier. This was no mere flat, friends and fambly. Look up again. Examine that. I'm not sure I've ever seen a tire do that. And damned sure that I've never had to steer through a tire that did that at seventy miles per hour.

The whole wall caved in on one side. That used to be my driver's side front tire. Basically (and maybe even Ascii-cally) it looked like this. I started in the right lane and...

<------------------------------------------------------------ went that way. Then:

------------------------------------------------------------> went that way. Stopped.

Changed the tire.

Drove nervously back to High Point, gathered the rest of my stuff, and drove nervously for three hours back to Spartanburg. Almost R.I.P. me.