27 minutes until final design meeting.
I missed, by 5 feet or so, getting crushed by an elderly woman in a nice espresso brown Lexus who decided to make a left hand turn from the middle lane.
The guy in front of me wasn’t so lucky. He was a city worker, big guy, ran over to us and was crying. He felt terrible. I assured him it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t seem to care. I had already called 911 and was talking to the elderly woman through the broken window of her smashed car door. The door wouldn’t open, she complained of pain in her shoulder. I am standing in the middle of the street, Hargett & Morgan, a half block away from the future home of Café de los Muertos. I am driving a borrowed truck from my friends Jon and Rita in Wilmington where my truck is. Correction, where my truck sits after the transmission fell out the bottom of the truck and created enough smoke to have the passing traffic hold their nose in disgust. Sorry about that folks.
I thought this must be the the 3rd avoided. I am free. I felt bad for the older lady, who was confused, unsure why her car was sideways on Dawson Street, but part of me was mad at her, mad at the obvious fact that she shouldn’t be driving when taking left hand turns from the middle lane in heavy morning traffic seemed to be a good idea, but none-the-less, pain is pain.
In three days I lost my transmission ($$$$), lost my computer, and had my son hit a temperature of 103 degrees. I wasn’t sure if Dexter was the third, this morning he had returned back to school, temperature was fine, I dropped him off at school and then minutes later missed another 3 of 3 by 5 feet.
This isn’t a coffee story, just a story about beating the Rule. I know, “You just cursed yourself Mac!”. Nah. I don’t believe in curses…wait…