Sharkbait's Local Spot

I had a bad feeling about driving today. And before I launch into this, I should state that I do, to a certain extent, believe in premonitions. The confirmation biasing, self-fulfilling kind, if you must. Anyways, I can only reliably claim responsibility for 1 of the 5 driving terrors I experienced today. This was my accidental misunderstanding of curb location as I unsuccessfully backed out of a driveway. Wheels intact, I rolled on.

Two of the remaining four were most definitely not my doing. One was a horrific accident I crawled upon, blocking the 3 left lanes of the bay bridge as I commuted to class. The other was a near-matching accident on the return, so this time on the upper deck, naturally.

Just prior to that were the two that I could have probably done something about. The first damn near killed me. Here's what happened.

So today I wore my hiking boots. That's ominous, huh? A driving horror story that starts with, "So today I wore my hiking boots." This will be very relevant soon. So these boots have bootstraps, as boots do, in the form of little fabric loops at the back of the heel. They should solely (ha!) serve the purpose of leveraging foot into boot, but this is not always the case.

Today as I'm crossing the bridge and talking on my new cell phone (3G, woot!), traffic before me slows. Having just come off the toll both a minute prior, I had waded through a few gears and my left foot was in a relaxed position on the floor, its work done for the moment. So you could imagine my surprise when I attempted to move said foot-in-boot towards clutch, and it was mysteriously pinned to my seat. Jerking my foot revealed that the foot-in-boot was now negatively correlated with the lever controlling the position of my seat. Being a 4'11" girl perched at the very front of the rails of reachability, any seat adjustments would have serious consequences. Besides, I had a slowing traffic problem to contend with.

Remarkably, I did what I needed to do, in the order I needed to do it. I used my right foot to throw in the clutch and go neutral, whilst telling my phonemate (now potential witness to my demise) of the current moment's news. Then I proceeded to slow down, driveshaft disengaged, for all kinds of potential gambling fun in the occasion that things not go as planned.

But panicking, as traffic is bound to pick back up, and I not with it. I cannot unloop my shoe on the seat slide lever, nor yank it free for fear of unwanted adjustments. So I reach down and one-handedly quickly untie my double-knotted left hiking boot! I release my foot and put the clutch in, just in time to flow with my fellow drivers...as if nothing happened at all!

Dorothy, my phonemate at the time of doom, can corroborate all of this. And please do, as I'm curious what I said during that brief insanity.

And if that weren't enough, not one minute later, some asshole with his garbage not strapped down in his old beige pickup, leaves me a flying-and-landing obstacle to dodge...ON THE FUCKING BRIDGE. It was one of those times that you half run over something, telling yourself, "Good God, I hope this is FLUUFFFYYY."

And that was all. Drive safe, people.