Confession i - A Mid Winter Night's Foreshadow

Yes you read that right. It’s not a typo. This is confession i – as in the imaginary number; the square root of negative one. Given the strange nature of this particular confession, I figured that such a numeration was only appropriate.

I’ve never really been one to believe in luck, fate, astrology, curses, or even manbearpig. Life is what you make of it. I stand by that. But at the same time, I’m also not stupid. I do recognize that sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes there are indicators or warnings, sometimes there aren’t. I’m sure we all can think of times where we should have done or not done something, and we ended up regretting it bitterly. Last night, I am convinced, could easily have been such a night.

When I arrived at work, I was ecstatic that there was actually a nice selection of cabs that I could drive. Usually there are only a couple of vehicles left by the time I check in, and I end up driving the big beastly Ford Aerostar that gets approximately 2 gallons per mile. You read that right. Gallons per mile. Don’t you just love American cars?

I picked one of our Honda minivans because they carry more people and are pretty comfortable. When I was checking the vehicle out, I noticed one of the headlights was out. I honestly don’t have much trouble driving with one headlight; I’ve done it before. In fact, I had been doing it Wednesday night, completely unaware of course, when a kind police officer pulled me over and burst my blissful bubble of ignorance. So, knowing that the Fort Collins police exercise no reserve in pulling over someone with only one headlight, I decided to pass on that cab.

Next, I opted for a Camry. We have a bunch of those cars and I like how they drive as well, particularly since they are virtually identical to my Corolla. So, as I was checking out this vehicle, I opened up the hood and immediately noticed a sweet smelling steam rising steadily from the radiator.

“No way. No way am I driving this one.” I thought to myself. I also had learned just one week ago the travails of driving a car that leaks engine coolant. That particular reality check hit me down in Denver in Cherry Hills. An overheated cab in Fort Collins on a Friday night, probably at 2:00am just like the rest of my confessions, is not my idea of a good time. So, I passed on this car.

I tried a third car. It started up fine and everything checked out alright. Well, all but the horn. Technically we aren’t supposed to drive without a working horn. But I figured I would just conveniently forget that little detail. I checked out and hit the roads of FoCo.

I got about 3 miles up the road when I started to notice that the car just happened to be teetering on the edge of losing control. Whenever I would get above 30 mph, the car would start to swerve back and forth, rhythmically. It wasn’t just a casual swaying. This was the kind where your hands leave imprints in the steering wheel because it’s impossible to maintain control. I have never experienced anything like it. All the traffic was flying past me at normal speed and I couldn’t even keep the vehicle going straight at 30. I was lucky there were no cops around because they probably would have pulled me over thinking I was drunk.

So, I called dispatch and explained my predicament. They said I could bring the car back and get another one. Whoever said “third time’s a charm” must have only tried twice. There’s another thing I don’t believe in: stupid cliché expressions like that one. So, I carefully drove back to the base. They gave me yet another car. I was sincerely apologetic. I didn’t want to be a pain, and I’m really not that picky. Apparently it just wasn’t my night for cars. Actually, I was surprised the each vehicle kept getting worse and worse. Finally, I was walking out to the fourth cab of the night, when I noticed it was totally covered in snow. Apparently it hadn’t been driven in a while.

“That’s odd.” I thought to myself. As I started wiping it off, I noticed that the driver side of the vehicle was dented. Okay, it was actually totally bashed in. In fact, neither of the two doors were able to open.

“Yeah, that one had a slight fender bender, but it should still be drivable.” they told me.

Okay, go ahead and put yourself in my shoes at this point. The first cab I picked had a burned out headlight. I probably would have gotten pulled over. The second vehicle had a leak in the radiator, so it probably would have overheated and left me stranded. The third vehicle couldn’t even drive straight when it got about 30 mph (I’m still puzzled about that one), and I would have almost been guaranteed to get in a wreck if I drove it. The fourth vehicle had actually been in a wreck and only the two passenger side doors could be opened.

As I said, I don’t really believe in luck, fate, or anything like that. But I do have common sense. And common sense was telling me that it was not going to be a good night. I would be lucky to get out of it without getting killed.

So I did what any person with common sense would do. I went home. I would rather have a lack of a confession than see how things could have gotten worse. And thus explains why this is confession i. It’s the confession that doesn’t exist, because hopefully I managed to avoid something I would have bitterly regretted.