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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Death Wish 93
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Some call it the "hard road" and others know it as the road of ugly
head-on fatalities. We are talking about Highway 93 which extends
from Phoenix, Arizona up through Montana and into the great white
north--Canada. The stops, much less cities, are few and far
between with much of the route two lanes.
It's January 9th, 1996 and in a few moments I'll be leaving Las
Vegas where I spent a few days exploring what the Winter Consumer
Electronics Show had to offer. My trip has lasted a little more
than a week, taking me from my home near Fort Lauderdale, Florida
to this "city of sin." I've put about 3500 miles on my car (yes, I
drove) and burned quite a bit of rubber off my Bridgestone RE71's.
So far the only casualties we've suffered, besides sickness, has
been some damage to my bumper when I hit a high curb while parking
my car in Zion National Park--be sure to watch the curb near the
River Walk trail.
Michael, my accomplice, is from Berlin, Germany and is someone I
met over the internet. He is the only person interested in going
with me on this drive to Las Vegas. I guess I can see why now--it
has been a tough ride with lots of 12 hour driving days and minimal
stops. Michael didn't talk very much on the trip which make it
tougher on me. Thank goodness I brought a lot of CDs and tapes.
I fucked up a turn on the airport road which I hoped Michael would
help me navigate so I ended up dropping him off at arrivals. He
got nervous cause all the doors said EXIT and wanted me to take him
to departures. I told him I might get lost again and that his best
bet was to enter the exit and find his check in area.
Once Michael made it inside I took off. After about a week of
traveling together I was actually glad to see him go. The
communication gap or Michael's silence annoyed me. Sometimes
talking to him was like talking to an invisible friend except if
you were really lucky your invisible friend would talk back.
It is still dark as I attempt to make my way out of the city. With
no city map I take a guess at the road which should take me out of
the city. After questioning my judgment for several miles I decide
I better stop at a gas station and ask for direction. The gas
attendant tells me I should continue on the road I am taking and I
will make it to the highway I am searching for. I drive a few
miles and begin to question the directions but finally see the
highway.
Within a couple hours I make it to my first stop--Kingman, Arizona.
I gas up and decide to stop at a tire shop to have my tires
rotated. The front tires (140 traction) are almost slicks on the
side and down to the "time to replace nub" on the center grooves.
The back tires are wearing thin too but have enough tread to make
the rotation worthwhile.
I'm heading east on I-40 towards my Highway 93 turn off doing about
75-80mph and notice the tire rotation has actually provided me with
a smoother ride. The tire shop only performed a rotation not a
balance; definitely a good decision that will make the remaining
2500 miles go a bit easier.
My decision for taking Highway 93 is so I can take a different
route home instead of I40. I could take I40 east to I17 and take
I17 south to I10 but looking at the map that would take about an
hour or two longer. Highway 93 looked to be the smart choice plus
with the extra time I could stop by another national park.
I make my turn on Highway 93 and realize not only that the speed
limit is less but it seems to be a limitless two lane highway not
as sparsely driven as I had hoped. Oh well, at least the
occasional passing lane will make the ride easier.
I do my best to maintain about 70mph on the road even though there
is a posted 55mph limit. Sure I'm speeding but how many cops are
going to be watching cars out in the middle of the Arizona desert?
The long stretches of land with few oncoming vehicles allowe me to
pass a lot of the initial backlog of trucks and campers. Sometimes
a third lane shows up and I use it, other times I pass when it
clear.
Then the inevitable happens. I caught up to a truck, a camper, and
a car doing the speed limit (55mph) and sometimes slowing down to
45-50mph. Taking a quick peek tells me all three vehicles are too
close together to pass one at a time so if I want to pass it is
going to be all or nothing. Or, as a last result, I could wait for
a passing lane. Behind these vehicles time seems to stop. Tick,
Tick. Seconds seemed like minutes and minutes like hours. The
road is not clearing and there are not any passing lane in sight.
My frustration builds. Then, dead ahead I see my chance. It is a
passing lane but for the oncoming traffic. I looked ahead and see
no one using the passing lane so I decided my chance to pass is
now.
I downshift and pass the first car and truck in fourth with no
problem. I notice oncoming traffic in the other lane but no one
using the passing lane so I am still safe to finish the pass.
About another half mile or maybe more of the passing lane remains.
It is hard to tell. I do know that traffic is approaching so I
better get moving. I shift to fifth and am doing about 80 but
barely passing the camper. Is that fucker speeding up or is the
slight hill holding me back I wonder. Oncoming traffic is very
close now with a semi in the lead. The hill is getting closer and
my time is running out; I'm now doing 85.
All of the sudden a cold sweat starts to come over my body as I
watch the semi and oncoming traffic approach. I see my passing
lane end up ahead and now head is starting to feel strange like all
my blood is racing for my head. I'm starting to tingle, my head
feels fat, I'm sweating and my body is cold. I pull out of the
passing lane to complete the pass at the same moment the semi pulls
into the expanded lane (lane right of the passing lane). I finish
the pass doing 85mph--thirty miles over the speed limit.
Still, it wasn't fast enough for me. The tingling sensation starts
to go away as I slow down and come to my senses. Those last few
seconds felt like all the blood in my body went directly to my
head. I can't describe it much better than that though it is not a
pleasurable feeling but more of an extreme fear feeling--not
something I care to experience again anytime soon. It was like my
body knew death was a possibility and pumped as much blood to the
brain to preserve it as long as possible in the case of an
accident.
In the miles that followed the close call I was extremely
frightened and became really pissed with my stupidity after I saw
"our" passing only a mile after passing the three vehicles. The
next hour or so on Highway 93 I kept shaking my head (no) wondering
how I come I'm so fucking impatient and why I pulled a stupid stunt
like that (using the other vehicles lane to pass even though it is
legal).
The rest of my trip I kept thinking this is a sign. I've been
given a new life or at least the opportunity to finish the old and
start living the "new life." During the days and months that
followed I slowly forgot about Highway 93 and my close call and my
life went back to normal.
Looking back I wonder if it taught me a lesson. Maybe all it
taught me was I should have a more powerful car as one with 145
horses is not enough. Or maybe I was just lucky that day and I
shouldn't try to think anything otherwise. Perhaps it is me but
something tells me it was more than luck that kept me alive. I try
to ask "why" but there is no response. I ask what is my destiny
and why was I spared. I look for meaning but all I get is silence.
My new life is just my old life painted with one more stripe. I'm
the same person with another experience, that of a death wish on
the hard road of life.
Looking for reason,
Pallbearer
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