I want to say I drive with abandon. I want to say: on orange desert dirt with eight pounds of bees in the back of my sad pickup. This to say — I’d like to leave home once without insuring first all my ducks are lined up. In a column, in a row — it doesn’t matter. I want to remember how it feels to drive away without first making sure my life is in order.
To the person who was talking to me while I was Out To Lunch, listening to me talk about My Game Plan and how it includes options for Plan A through Plan D, let me say I know you know lately I’ve not been able to keep my ducks in a row. You scoffed (aka: snorted) when I spoke (aka: whined or snivelled) about the fear of what might happen if any of my rowed ducks should stray.
During this driving and talking at said lunch time, unbeknownst to me, a vehicle belonging to the company which employs me even when I am to and fro-ing between Jimmy John’s and Subway, was hit by an uninsured motorist, two blocks away from my whine.
The motorist whose name is on the flipside of the snapped ticket knew enough to talk my co-buddy into reparking his vehicle in such a way when the police came the scene of the accident had been rearranged. Hence, she, the lady without insurance, received no ticket for turning right on a red.
Hence, I’m not thrilled with her but hence, I realize I’m contrary when it comes to Want. I want that orange desert dirt to turn into a climb of beauty and the bees in the back to produce honey. I’d like to have insurance when I need it and I’d like to live life as though I don’t.