One way to notice that you have hair that is too long is to hear people say cryptic things like: “Your hair is too long”! This happened a few weeks ago, but I sort of ignored it. Then I was driving on the freeway out to Langley, and I closed the sunroof because it was getting a little too much like a wind tunnel in my car. I have an electric sunroof, and I managed to close in on my hair. Needless to say, this was a little confusing initially, but once I had figured out what the hell was going on, I opened the sunroof. I sort of made up my mind at that point that my hair was too long, and got it hacked much shorter a while later. Why didn’t anybody tell me?
The other incident with my car last week was slightly more violent and destructive. I was traveling at about 60, and noticed that the car ahead of me had swerved into the other lane. Suddenly I saw this bird intent upon collision with my windshield. I was unable to avoid it, but it quickly made itself clear that it wasn’t a bird, it was a rock about the size of a baseball. This quickly got my attention. The car behind me immediately began honking, likely struck similar to the car ahead of me.
You know when you drive over a newly paved stretch of road and you get that agitated gravel sound on the underside of your car? This is what happened at that moment as well, except the road was not newly paved, and the source of my attacker was this big arrogantly blue dump truck. So I got mad. I u-turned immediately, which is not really my custom. I was angry, and intent upon getting some sort of license plate or truck company name so that I could have someone to yell at over the phone later on.
This obviously wasn’t the sort of case where I was going to confront the driver, I was merely going to get the license plate and company name. I never got the chance for either. First of all, driving behind this guy was like attempting to catch up to a hailstorm (and sounded something similar). I had to drive so far behind him that I couldn’t read anything off of his truck. When he stopped at a light, I tried to drive on the shoulder to read his plates, but it was one of those trucks that was so covered in crud that I couldn’t read a damn thing. I couldn’t get through the light at the same time as him either because there was a cop coming the other way and I didn’t really feel like running the light at that point in time (lights and sirens don’t end the day well). Out of options, I waited at the light and never caught up to him again.
What really pisses me off here is that I likely have to buy a new windshield for my car. A baseball sized rock traveling at approx. 60 in the opposite direction of my 60 wields some serious impact on a pane of glass. What is most surprising here is that while the igneous projectile left a sizable blemish in my window, none of the damage penetrated far enough through the glass to create any sort of disfigurement on the inside. Of course, that won’t console me when I am paying $200 for a new windshield (which actually costs 950, but insurance covers some of it). OF course, this isn’t money that I have.
Maybe its time to rethink that whole strategy I’ve got about never entering the lottery?